Archive of Our Own

The war had not officially begun yet, but the kingdom already carried the atmosphere of something slowly dying beneath silk and gold.

Helios remained beautiful in the way doomed things often were. The capital overflowed with towering white cathedrals, marble courtyards, and enormous stained-glass windows that painted entire streets in colors during sunset, while noble families continued pretending peace still existed by hosting extravagant gatherings every other evening. Merchants still sold flowers beside the palace gates, musicians still played in crowded plazas beneath strings of lantern light, children still chased each other across fountains without understanding why soldiers had started appearing on every corner of the city.

But the tension existed everywhere if one paid enough attention.

The White Knights trained longer than before. Diplomats no longer smiled naturally during negotiations. Guards kept their hands closer to their weapons whenever imperial officials visited the capital. Even the bells ringing from cathedral towers sounded heavier now, their echoes rolling across the kingdom with the weight of warnings rather than prayer.

Kanade noticed all of it constantly, perhaps too constantly.

She spent most evenings standing near the upper cathedral balconies overlooking the capital while cold wind moved through pale strands of hair and silver banners snapped sharply in the distance below. From there, she could watch entire sections of the city at once, knights drilling in formation inside palace courtyards, merchants hurriedly closing shops before nightfall, noble carriages disappearing through guarded gates beneath torchlight. The kingdom looked calm from above, ordered. Holy, even.

Yet she could feel fear settling beneath everything like cracks spreading slowly beneath ice.

“You’re doing it again,” Mizuki murmured one evening while stepping onto the balcony beside her, white cape trailing behind her as cathedral light spilled softly across polished armor. Her tone sounded casual, but her eyes immediately drifted toward the city below with the same exhaustion Kanade had grown used to seeing lately. “Staring at the capital like it’s about to collapse.”

Kanade rested her hands quietly against the cold stone railing before answering. “Doesn’t it feel like that to you too?”

Mizuki let out a quiet breath through her nose, leaning her elbows against the balcony edge beside her. For several seconds neither of them spoke while distant bells echoed somewhere across the city. The wind smelled faintly of rain.

“War always starts long before the fighting does,” Mizuki finally said, her voice softer now. “People just don’t notice until the executions begin.”

Kanade’s chest tightened slightly at the word.

Executions, even hearing it felt wrong.

Below them, movement near the palace gates suddenly drew her attention. Imperial banners had begun appearing throughout the courtyard, black fabric embroidered with gold insignias fluttering sharply against pale stone walls as soldiers entered the capital in perfectly disciplined lines. Unlike the White Knights, whose armor and ceremonial clothing emphasized divinity and elegance, the Imperial Soldiers looked severe. Practical. Dangerous. Dark uniforms hugged sharp silhouettes while polished weapons reflected evening light with unsettling precision.

And at the center of them walked Mafuyu Asahina.

Kanade had seen her before during political ceremonies, though never this closely. Never long enough to truly look.

Now, standing high above the courtyard while the imperial delegation crossed beneath cathedral shadows, she found herself unable to stop staring.

Mafuyu moved differently from the others around her. Every motion looked controlled to the point of unnaturalness, from the straightness of her posture to the calm stillness of her expression. Her dark military coat shifted softly around her legs as she walked, silver detailing across the fabric catching fragments of fading sunlight whenever she passed beneath open sections of the courtyard. Soldiers occasionally spoke to her, but Mafuyu only answered briefly before silence reclaimed her again.

She looked untouchable and strangely lonely.

“She’s terrifying in battle, apparently,” Mizuki commented quietly beside her while following Kanade’s gaze downward. “The Empire’s favorite soldier. Half the nobles are convinced she’ll become a war hero if conflict breaks out.”

Kanade continued watching Mafuyu without answering immediately. The stories she had heard about the imperial prodigy painted someone cold, ruthless, almost machine-like in her efficiency during combat. Yet from here, Mafuyu didn’t look terrifying at all.

Suddenly, Mafuyu stopped walking.

The movement was subtle enough that most people likely wouldn’t have noticed it, but Kanade did immediately. Below them, standing amidst the shifting crowd of imperial soldiers, Mafuyu slowly lifted her head toward the cathedral balcony.

Towards her.

Kanade froze.

Their eyes met across the enormous courtyard, separated by distance, banners, and the suffocating tension between kingdoms already preparing to tear each other apart.

Mafuyu’s expression barely changed.

Still, something lingered there for a brief second, quiet recognition, perhaps, or curiosity difficult to describe. Kanade felt her heartbeat stumble unpleasantly against her ribs before Mafuyu finally looked away again and continued walking toward the palace entrance as though nothing had happened.

Beside her, Mizuki glanced sideways almost immediately.

“Oh,” she murmured softly.

Kanade looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Her lips curved slightly in amusement despite the exhaustion beneath it. “You just looked very interested for a second there.”

Heat immediately rose to Kanade’s face. “I wasn’t-”

“You were.”

Kanade turned away toward the city before Mizuki could notice how embarrassed she suddenly felt, though the image of Mafuyu looking up at her remained painfully clear in her mind long after the imperial soldiers disappeared beneath the palace gates.

The royal banquet that evening felt less like diplomacy and more like a performance staged by people desperately pretending the kingdom was not standing at the edge of collapse.

Everything inside the palace glittered too brightly. Golden chandeliers illuminated enormous halls lined with white marble pillars while orchestras played delicate melodies beneath painted ceilings depicting ancient victories from centuries ago, back when Helios still believed wars could create glory instead of ruin. Nobles draped in silk and jewels moved through the ballroom carrying crystal glasses in elegant hands, smiling with practiced ease while discussing military expansion in the same tones others might use for weather forecasts.

Kanade hated every second of it.

The noise alone exhausted her. Endless laughter that sounded artificial. Endless conversations layered with hidden threats and political calculations disguised as politeness. Even the air inside the ballroom felt suffocatingly warm beneath candlelight and perfume.

She remained near the outer edges of the hall where enormous balcony curtains shifted softly whenever cold night wind entered from outside. It was easier there. Quieter. The White Knights stationed throughout the palace mostly blended into the scenery beside cathedral statues and silver banners, their pale uniforms reinforcing the kingdom’s carefully crafted image of holiness and order.

Kanade no longer believed in either.

From across the ballroom, she watched imperial officials gather near the throne platform beneath dark banners embroidered with gold insignias. The contrast between both kingdoms looked almost theatrical, White Knights dressed in silver and ivory beneath cathedral light while Imperial Soldiers stood in sharp black uniforms resembling shadows carved directly into the palace itself.

And among them, once again, stood Mafuyu.

Kanade’s gaze found her instinctively now.

It irritated her slightly.

Mafuyu stood near Princess Shinonome (Ena) with the same composed posture as before, dark military coat perfectly fitted against her frame while silver decorations glimmered faintly beneath chandelier light. Several nobles attempted conversation with her throughout the evening, likely drawn by her reputation alone. The Empire adored her. Stories about Mafuyu existed everywhere now, the prodigy soldier, the emperor’s favored weapon, the young commander capable of ending battlefields before sunrise.

Yet every time someone spoke to her, Mafuyu answered politely but briefly before silence reclaimed her almost immediately afterward.

She never smiled properly.

Never laughed.

Never seemed fully present inside conversations happening around her.

Even surrounded by nobles and soldiers alike, she somehow still looked isolated.

Kanade found herself staring again before realizing it.

“You’re doing it again,” Mizuki whispered quietly after appearing beside her with a wine glass loosely balanced between gloved fingers.

Kanade nearly jumped. “You keep appearing out of nowhere.”

“You keep staring at the imperial soldier.”

Heat immediately rose to her face.

“I’m not staring.”

Mizuki hummed skeptically before taking a slow sip from her glass, pale eyes drifting knowingly across the ballroom toward Mafuyu. “You know what the funniest part is? I genuinely don’t think you’ve noticed she keeps looking back.”

Kanade froze.

Slowly, carefully, she looked across the ballroom again.

And immediately met Mafuyu’s eyes.

This time the distance between them felt far smaller.

Neither looked away at first.

The orchestra continued playing softly somewhere behind them while nobles moved through candlelight completely unaware of the silent tension stretching across the ballroom. Mafuyu remained outwardly calm, though Kanade noticed the smallest hesitation in her posture now, almost invisible beneath all that military precision.

Like she hadn’t expected to be caught watching too.

Kanade’s heartbeat stumbled awkwardly against her ribs.

Then Princess Ena leaned toward Mafuyu and said something quietly enough that Kanade couldn’t hear it. Mafuyu finally looked away first, attention returning toward the princess while Kanade stood motionless near the balcony curtains feeling strangely warm despite the cold air drifting in from outside.

Beside her, Mizuki looked deeply entertained.

“Oh, this is awful,” they murmured dramatically.

Kanade frowned immediately. “What is?”

“You’re interested in the Empire’s deadliest soldier.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Right.”

“Mizuki.”

“And she’s definitely interested back.”

Kanade looked away again, embarrassed frustration tightening in her chest. “You’re imagining things.”

“Kanade,” Mizuki sighed while setting their glass onto a nearby table, “I spend most of my life watching nobles lie to each other. I know what mutual interest looks like.”

Kanade opened her mouth to argue again before another voice interrupted nearby.

“The White Knights still believe negotiation is possible?”

Several nobles had gathered near one side of the ballroom now, conversation noticeably sharper than before. Imperial officials stood opposite them beneath flickering chandelier light while tension spread visibly through the surrounding crowd. Kanade immediately recognized the man speaking, one of the emperor’s military advisors, infamous for advocating direct invasion of western territories.

A White Knight commander answered stiffly, “We believe unnecessary bloodshed can still be avoided.”

The imperial advisor smiled.

Defenitely not kindly.

“There is no such thing as unnecessary bloodshed during war.”

The atmosphere shifted instantly after that. Subtle, but undeniable.

Nearby conversations quieted. Musicians faltered slightly before continuing their performance. Even servants carrying wine trays moved more carefully now as nobles exchanged increasingly strained smiles across the ballroom.

Kanade hated this.

Not simply the politics, but the horrifying calmness with which everyone discussed death. Entire cities and thousands of lives reduced to negotiation points spoken beneath crystal chandeliers by people who would never personally see battlefields themselves.

Her chest suddenly felt tight.

Without thinking much about it, Kanade slipped away from the ballroom entirely.

The palace gardens outside were colder than expected. Night air brushed sharply against her skin as she stepped onto stone pathways lined with sleeping roses and silver fountains illuminated softly beneath moonlight. The noise from the banquet became distant immediately, swallowed by enormous palace walls and the quiet rustling of trees overhead.

For the first time all evening, she could breathe properly.

She walked slowly through the gardens while pale fabric shifted around her ankles, exhaustion settling heavily into her chest now that nobody remained nearby to witness it. The kingdom kept speaking about war like strategy. Like politics. Like glory.

But Kanade could already picture the aftermath too clearly.

Burned villages.

Mass graves.

Children waiting for parents who would never return home.

The thought alone made her feel sick.

“You left too.”

Kanade stopped immediately.

Mafuyu stood several feet away beneath the shadow of a rose archway, dark military uniform almost blending into the night itself. Moonlight filtered softly through branches overhead, silver illumination catching against strands of dark hair and the polished edges of imperial insignias across her coat. For a moment, neither moved.

Up close, Mafuyu looked even more exhausted than before.

Not physically.

Kanade realized suddenly that this was the first time they had ever truly been alone together.

The awareness made her pulse quicken embarrassingly fast.

“I didn’t realize anyone followed me,” Kanade said softly.

Mafuyu’s gaze drifted briefly toward the ballroom doors behind them before returning to her. “I didn’t mean to.”

There was no hostility in her voice, but no arrogance either.

Cold wind moved through the garden again, carrying the scent of roses between them while distant music echoed faintly from inside the palace.

Mafuyu looked toward the fountains ahead. “You looked uncomfortable in there.”

Kanade blinked slightly. “Was it obvious?”

“A little.”

Somehow, hearing that from Mafuyu felt strangely intimate.

Kanade stepped closer toward the fountain paths without fully realizing it. “I don’t understand how everyone acts so calm while discussing war.”

Mafuyu remained quiet for several seconds before answering.

“They’re scared.”

“That doesn’t sound like fear.”

“It is.” Her voice stayed soft. Controlled. “People become cruel when they’re afraid of losing power.”

Kanade looked at her carefully then.

This close, Mafuyu’s expression appeared even harder to read. Calm to the point of emptiness sometimes, yet not cold exactly. More like someone who had learned to bury emotions so deeply they no longer knew how to let them surface naturally.

And somehow, that loneliness returned again.

Sharp enough to ache.

“You don’t seem afraid,” Kanade admitted quietly.

Mafuyu’s eyes lowered slightly toward the fountain water reflecting moonlight beside them.

“I am,” she answered after a long pause. “I just don’t think it changes anything.”

Kanade did not know why that answer lingered inside her chest long after the conversation should have ended.

Perhaps because Mafuyu had said it so quietly.

Not dramatically. Not bitterly.

Just honestly.

The fountain beside them continued rippling beneath moonlight while distant music drifted through the palace gardens in fractured pieces carried by cold wind. Somewhere inside the ballroom, nobles were still laughing beneath chandeliers while kingdoms slowly prepared to destroy each other. The contrast made Kanade feel strangely detached from reality, as though she and Mafuyu existed momentarily outside the world everyone else remained trapped inside.

“You speak about war like it already happened,” Kanade murmured after a while.

Mafuyu’s gaze stayed fixed on the water. “It has.”

Kanade frowned slightly.

“The fighting hasn’t started yet.”

“The fighting isn’t the beginning.” Mafuyu’s expression barely shifted, though exhaustion flickered briefly across her face before disappearing again beneath practiced composure. “By the time armies move, people have already decided who deserves to die.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Kanade hated how true they sounded.

For several moments neither spoke again. The silence itself felt strangely comfortable despite the tension surrounding them. Kanade usually disliked silence around other people because it often carried expectation, pressure to say something correct, something useful, something meaningful enough to justify her presence. But with Mafuyu, silence simply existed.

It frightened her slightly how natural it already felt.

A sharp gust of wind swept through the gardens suddenly, causing nearby branches to tremble softly overhead. Kanade shivered instinctively beneath the thin fabric of her formal clothing before immediately trying to hide it, though Mafuyu noticed anyway.

Without saying anything, she removed part of her dark military cloak and held it out toward Kanade.

The movement caught her off guard completely.

“You’ll freeze otherwise,” Mafuyu said quietly.

Kanade hesitated before accepting it carefully. The fabric felt unexpectedly warm despite the cold night air, carrying faint traces of rain and smoke beneath cleaner scents from the palace itself. Once the cloak settled around her shoulders, the imperial insignia embroidered near the collar became visible against pale fabric.

The realization made something strange twist softly in her chest.

“You shouldn’t give this to me,” Kanade murmured while lightly touching the edge of the cloak. “If someone sees-”

“They won’t.”

Again, the certainty in Mafuyu’s voice sounded less arrogant and more resigned, as though she had already spent years accepting responsibilities without complaint.

Kanade looked at her carefully. “You always sound so sure about everything.”

Mafuyu blinked once before looking away slightly. “I’m not.”

“You hide it well.”

A faint silence followed that statement. Then, unexpectedly, Mafuyu asked, “Do I?”

Kanade stared at her.

For the first time since meeting her, Mafuyu genuinely sounded uncertain.

Kanade lowered her eyes toward the fountain briefly before answering softly, “I think people see what they want to see.”

Mafuyu watched her quietly.

Cold moonlight illuminated the sharp lines of her expression while distant ballroom music echoed faintly behind them, muted enough now to feel unreal. Up close, Kanade noticed details she hadn’t earlier, the faint shadows beneath Mafuyu’s eyes, the stiffness in her posture suggesting chronic exhaustion rather than discipline alone, the subtle tension in her hands whenever silence lasted too long.

She looked lonely.

“What do people see when they look at you?” Kanade asked before fully thinking through the question.

Mafuyu seemed surprised by it too.

For several seconds she said nothing, eyes lowering slightly toward the stone pathways beneath them while wind moved softly through dark strands of hair.

“An useful person,” she answered eventually.

The simplicity of the response hurt more than Kanade expected.

Useful.

Just useful.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke again. “And what do you want them to see?”

Mafuyu froze.

Not dramatically. Barely at all, honestly.

Yet Kanade noticed immediately.

The question seemed to catch somewhere deep inside her, beneath all the careful emotional distance and military composure. Mafuyu’s lips parted slightly as though to answer before silence reclaimed her again.

“I don’t know.”

The words almost disappeared beneath the wind.

Kanade looked away toward the sleeping roses lining the garden paths because suddenly something inside her felt unbearably fragile, the pressure to become whatever others needed eventually hollowed people out from the inside. Kanade had spent most of her own life sacrificing sleep, health, and pieces of herself for responsibilities she no longer remembered choosing. The White Knights praised devotion constantly, especially self-destructive devotion disguised as loyalty.

Mafuyu looked like someone who had been praised until nothing remained underneath it anymore.

“You look sad,” Mafuyu said softly after a while.

Kanade blinked slightly before laughing under her breath, though the sound carried little real amusement. “That’s unfair. You say terrifying things very calmly, you know.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“I know.”

That was the problem.

Everything Mafuyu said felt honest in ways most people avoided completely.

And honesty like that made Kanade’s chest ache.

The ballroom doors opened somewhere behind them suddenly as voices spilled briefly into the gardens before fading again. Instinctively, both girls stepped slightly farther beneath the shadows of the rose archway without discussing it.

The movement brought them closer together.

Too close.

Kanade became sharply aware of everything all at once, the warmth of Mafuyu’s cloak around her shoulders, the faint scent of rain lingering against dark fabric, the quiet sound of Mafuyu breathing beside her beneath the enormous silence of the gardens.

Neither spoke.

Neither moved away.

Then distant bells rang across the capital, the sound shattered the stillness instantly.

Mafuyu stepped back first almost reluctantly.

“I should return before they notice I’m gone,” she murmured.

Kanade nodded even though disappointment curled immediately inside her chest.

Of course this moment would end.

Everything beautiful did lately.

Mafuyu hesitated briefly before turning away toward the palace doors. But after only a few steps, she stopped again without looking back.

“The White Knights shouldn’t trust the eastern negotiations,” she said quietly.

Kanade frowned slightly. “What?”

“There are people inside the Empire who already want war no matter what happens tomorrow.” Mafuyu’s voice remained calm, though something colder lingered underneath it now. “Be careful.”

Then she walked away before Kanade could answer.

Leaving only the fading sound of footsteps against stone pathways and the warmth of her cloak still resting around Kanade’s shoulders.

Kanade returned to her chambers long after midnight, yet sleep never came.

The imperial cloak still rested around her shoulders while candlelight flickered weakly across the walls of her room, illuminating scattered papers and unfinished military reports left abandoned across her desk hours earlier. Outside her windows, the capital remained awake beneath darkness. She could still hear distant carriage wheels crossing stone streets far below the cathedral district, along with the occasional echo of soldiers changing shifts somewhere near the palace gates.

The kingdom never truly slept anymore.

Not since the border conflicts began.

Kanade sat quietly beside the window overlooking the city while her fingers remained absentmindedly curled against the edge of Mafuyu’s cloak. The fabric felt heavier now indoors, warmer too. Every time she tried convincing herself tonight’s conversation had meant nothing, she remembered the look in Mafuyu’s eyes while standing beside the fountain.

An useful person.

The words replayed endlessly in her mind.

Not because they sounded dramatic, but because of how painfully genuine they had been. Mafuyu had spoken about herself like someone describing an object rather than a life. Calmly. Casually. As though her own existence only mattered insofar as it remained beneficial to others.

Kanade hated how much she understood that feeling.

The White Knights praised sacrifice constantly. Duty above desire. Service above self. Entire generations of knights had been raised believing exhaustion was holiness so long as it benefited the kingdom. Kanade herself had spent years destroying her own health composing strategies, overseeing relief efforts, and handling responsibilities meant for people far older than her because everyone kept telling her she was needed.

Needed.

Another terrible word.

People rarely noticed when devotion started becoming self-destruction.

A quiet knock interrupted her thoughts.

Before Kanade could answer, Mizuki stepped inside carrying several folders beneath one arm. Her expression immediately sharpened after noticing the dark imperial cloak draped around Kanade’s shoulders.

For several seconds, silence filled the room.

“Oh,” Mizuki said.

Kanade immediately looked away. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“That depends entirely on what it looks like.”

“Mizuki.”

“I’m serious.” She closed the door behind themselves before walking farther into the room, pale eyes fixed firmly on the imperial insignia embroidered against the fabric around her shoulders. “Please tell me the Empire’s deadliest soldier didn’t personally wrap you in her cloak beneath moonlight while the kingdom actively approaches civil collapse.”

Kanade felt heat rise violently to her face.

“She was just being polite.”

“That is somehow worse.”

“Mizuki.”

“I’m trying to understand whether I should be concerned or impressed.”

Kanade buried part of her face briefly into her hands while Mizuki sighed dramatically before setting the folders down across the desk nearby.

The amusement faded from her expression first.

“You know this is dangerous, right?” she asked quietly.

Kanade lowered her hands slowly.

The exhaustion in Mizuki’s voice immediately made the atmosphere feel heavier.

“She warned me about the eastern negotiations,” Kanade admitted after a moment. “Apparently there are imperial officials already pushing for war regardless of tomorrow’s outcome.”

Mizuki looked unsurprised.

“Of course there are.”

“You already knew?”

“I suspected.” She leaned against the desk, gaze drifting toward the dark windows overlooking the capital. “The Empire’s been mobilizing troops too aggressively for this to still be simple border tension.”

Kanade’s stomach tightened.

“And the White Knights?”

Mizuki laughed softly beneath her breath, though nothing about the sound felt amused.

“We’re preparing too.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

Candlelight flickered weakly between them while silence stretched heavily across the chambers. Kanade already understood what that meant even without further explanation. More soldiers stationed near borders. More weapons transported into cathedral storage beneath the capital. More young knights being told they were honorable while older men prepared to feed them into battlefields.

Outside, cathedral bells rang somewhere in the distance again.

Mizuki closed their eyes briefly at the sound before speaking in a quieter voice. “Kanade…if war starts, things are going to become ugly very quickly.”

Kanade looked down at the cloak around her shoulders.

“I know.”

“No,” Mizuki murmured softly. “I don’t think you do.”

Their words lingered long after the conversation ended.

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

The negotiations collapsed the following morning, not publicly.

Officially, both kingdoms released statements claiming discussions remained ongoing while diplomats continued “working toward peaceful resolution.” Nobles smiled for the public. Newspapers printed hopeful headlines. Cathedral priests preached unity beneath stained-glass windows while citizens desperately clung to reassurances that war could still be avoided.

But inside the palace council chambers, peace died quietly before noon.

Kanade watched it happen in real time

.

The negotiations themselves took place inside one of the royal cathedral halls overlooking the eastern districts, enormous windows casting fractured sunlight across marble floors while White Knights and imperial officials sat opposite each other beneath suffocatingly formal silence. The atmosphere already felt doomed before anyone even spoke.

Imperial representatives demanded military access to disputed territories near the eastern border.

The White Knights refused.

The White Knights demanded withdrawal of imperial troops already stationed nearby.

The Empire refused.

Every conversation afterward spiraled deeper into hostility disguised as diplomacy.

Kanade remained near the rear of the cathedral chamber alongside several White Knight commanders while arguments escalated across the enormous table beneath hanging chandeliers. The entire room felt tense enough to shatter. Even the servants pouring tea looked frightened.

And throughout all of it, Mafuyu stood near the imperial delegation without speaking.

Her expression remained perfectly calm.

Too calm.

Kanade found herself watching her constantly despite trying not to.

Mafuyu barely reacted even when voices rose sharply around the table. She simply observed in silence beside Princess Ena, dark uniform immaculate beneath cathedral light while imperial advisors continued discussing military expansion like they were debating trade routes instead of human lives.

Then one of the White Knight commanders made a mistake.

“If the Empire continues threatening Helios sovereignty,” he said sharply, “the White Knights will respond accordingly.”

The atmosphere changed instantly, and Kanade felt it immediately.

Several imperial officials stiffened. One advisor smiled faintly in the way predators sometimes did before violence. Even Ena’s expression darkened slightly.

Mafuyu looked tired.

“Respond accordingly?” an imperial noble repeated softly. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Those are often the same thing.”

The room erupted after that.

Voices overlapped violently while diplomats abandoned all remaining politeness almost at once. Accusations spread across the cathedral chamber faster than Kanade could follow: border violations, military aggression, treason, resource control, assassination rumors. Years of resentment finally surfaced openly beneath holy cathedral light while everyone pretended they still discussed peace.

Kanade barely noticed herself stepping slightly forward until suddenly Mafuyu looked directly at her from across the chamber.

Just for a second.

Yet the look itself felt terrifyingly clear.

Leave.

Kanade froze.

Mafuyu’s expression never changed outwardly, but something urgent lingered beneath her gaze now.

Then the cathedral doors burst open.

A White Knight soldier stumbled inside breathless and pale.

“Commander-” His voice shook violently. “The eastern district…”

Silence swallowed the chamber immediately.

The soldier looked physically sick. “The imperial outpost near Aster Village was attacked this morning.”

Every person inside the room went still.

Kanade felt cold instantly.

“How many casualties?” one commander demanded.

The soldier swallowed hard.

“Thirty-two dead.”

And just like that, war finally arrived. 

The news spread through the capital before sunset.

Not officially, of course.

Official statements still insisted the attack remained “under investigation,” while both kingdoms immediately blamed each other in carefully crafted public announcements designed to preserve what little political stability still existed. Nobles continued pretending diplomacy had not completely collapsed only hours earlier. Priests still held evening sermons beneath cathedral light while urging citizens to remain calm. The palace still flew banners untouched by smoke.

But fear moved faster than politics ever could.

By nightfall, soldiers flooded the streets.

Kanade watched the transformation happen from the cathedral district as armored patrols marched through the capital in doubled formations beneath torchlight, their footsteps echoing across marble roads that only yesterday had still belonged to ordinary civilians. Curfews were announced before midnight. City gates closed. Merchants hurried to board windows while whispers spread through crowds gathering nervously around public squares.

War.

Nobody wanted to say the word aloud yet.

Still, everyone understood.

Inside White Knight headquarters, the atmosphere felt suffocating.

Messengers rushed endlessly through cathedral corridors carrying reports between commanders while maps covered nearly every available surface inside the war chambers. The eastern districts had already become chaos. Border skirmishes erupted less than two hours after news of the attack reached nearby military camps, both sides retaliating before investigations could even begin.

It happened that quickly.

One massacre.

Thirty-two bodies.

And suddenly the kingdoms stood on the verge of tearing each other apart permanently.

Kanade sat silently near the edge of the strategy chamber while military officials argued around her with increasing hostility. Candlelight flickered across exhausted faces and bloodstained reports spread across the enormous table at the center of the room. Nobody had slept. Some commanders still wore armor stained with dirt from emergency mobilizations earlier that afternoon.

“They struck first,” one knight insisted sharply while slamming documents against the table. “We cannot continue delaying military response.”

“We don’t even know who initiated the attack yet.”

“It was the Empire.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

The commander laughed bitterly. “Then it hardly matters anymore, does it?”

The truth had stopped mattering the moment blood touched the border.

Kanade lowered her eyes toward the maps spread before her. Entire sections of eastern territory had already been marked in red ink. Supply routes. Villages. Imperial camps. White Knight strongholds. Human lives reduced into strategic symbols drawn across parchment by people trying to calculate how much death the kingdom could survive.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

She could still picture Mafuyu standing across the negotiation chamber earlier that morning.

The look in her eyes right before the soldier burst through the cathedral doors.

Leave.

As though Mafuyu had already known everything was about to collapse.

“Kanade.”

She looked up slowly.

Akito stood near the chamber entrance still wearing combat gear from deployment preparations, orange hair slightly damp from rain outside while exhaustion carved dark shadows beneath sharp eyes. Unlike most White Knights, Akito never looked elegant enough for cathedral halls. Too rough around the edges. Too visibly angry.

Right now he looked furious.

“The eastern battalion’s preparing for movement,” he said. “Command wants you downstairs.”

Kanade blinked once. “Already?”

“They think the Empire’s going to advance before dawn.”

The room suddenly felt colder.

Of course they would.

Once wars started, hesitation became weakness.

Kanade stood slowly from her chair while conversations continued violently around her. Nobody looked hopeful anymore. As she passed Akito near the doorway, his voice lowered slightly.

“You look pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

Kanade almost laughed weakly at the familiarity of the phrase. Instead, she simply tightened her grip against the stack of military reports in her hands before following him into the cathedral corridors outside.

The halls were chaos.

White Knights rushed through endless stretches of marble carrying weapons, armor, and sealed orders while cathedral bells rang continuously overhead loud enough to shake the stained-glass windows. Servants disappeared carrying crates toward underground storage rooms. Young recruits barely old enough to fight stood lined against walls receiving deployment instructions with expressions hovering somewhere between fear and disbelief.

Some of them would die before morning.

The thought hit Kanade so hard she nearly stopped walking.

Akito noticed immediately.

“You can’t think about it too long,” he muttered while continuing down the corridor beside her. “If you start counting every body now, this war’ll destroy you before the battlefield even gets the chance.”

Kanade’s throat tightened slightly. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me.” His answer came instantly, sharper than expected. “But nobody asks soldiers whether they’re comfortable anymore once war starts.”

They descended farther beneath the cathedral levels until the air itself changed -- colder, heavier, carrying traces of iron and candle smoke through underground preparation chambers where White Knights equipped themselves beneath dim torchlight. The atmosphere below lacked the polished elegance of the upper cathedral entirely. Here, war stopped pretending to be noble.

Armor clattered loudly across stone floors while medics organized supplies nearby. Some knights sharpened weapons in silence. Others prayed quietly beneath their breath.

Kanade suddenly felt exhausted down to her bones.

Then movement near the far side of the chamber caught her attention.

Mizuki approached quickly through the underground hallways, pale cloak shifting sharply behind her while several folded documents remained tucked beneath one arm. Her expression alone immediately made Kanade’s chest tighten.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Without speaking, Mizuki grabbed Kanade’s wrist and pulled her farther away from the surrounding soldiers toward a quieter section of the corridor.

“What happened?” Kanade asked immediately.

Mizuki looked around once before lowering her voice.

“The Empire’s arresting suspected informants inside the capital.”

Kanade froze.

“The emperor thinks someone leaked military information before the negotiations collapsed,” Mizuki continued quietly. “Imperial patrols have already started executions in the eastern territories.”

Executions. Already?

The word alone made Kanade feel sick.

“How many?”

“Nobody knows yet.”

Mizuki’s expression darkened further before they added, “And Kanade… there are rumors someone inside the Empire warned the White Knights before the attack.”

Her heartbeat stopped.

Mizuki saw immediately.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh no. Kanade, don't tell me that you...”

Kanade looked away at once.

The silence between them became unbearable almost instantly.

Mafuyu warning her in the gardens.

Mafuyu telling her to avoid the eastern negotiations.

Mafuyu looking at her like she already knew disaster was coming.

If the Empire discovered any connection between them—

No.

Kanade couldn’t even finish the thought.

Mizuki exhaled slowly through clenched teeth before speaking again, voice lower now. “Tell me you haven’t done anything reckless.”

Kanade remained silent.

“Kanade.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s not how governments work during war.”

The underground chamber suddenly felt suffocatingly small.

Somewhere nearby, cathedral bells continued ringing above the capital while soldiers prepared for deployment beneath holy walls already beginning to resemble tombs. Kanade pressed trembling fingers briefly against her forehead, exhaustion and dread crashing together violently inside her chest.

Mafuyu was in danger.

And somehow, impossibly, that terrified her even more than the war itself.

Night settled over the capital like a funeral veil.

Rain began sometime after midnight.

Kanade could hear it striking the cathedral windows long before she finally returned to her chambers, the sound soft at first before gradually deepening into something heavier, steadier, until the entire city seemed swallowed beneath endless gray noise. From her window, the streets of Helios no longer looked beautiful. Torchlight reflected against rain-soaked stone while military patrols crossed the city in relentless formations, their armor glimmering briefly each time lightning flashed beyond distant cathedral towers.

The kingdom looked occupied already.

Even by its own soldiers.

Kanade remained standing near the window without removing her uniform, exhaustion pulling painfully through every part of her body while her thoughts spiraled endlessly back toward Mafuyu. The rumors spreading through both kingdoms had become impossible to ignore now. Imperial officials suspected betrayal inside their own ranks. White Knight commanders believed the Empire planned retaliatory strikes before dawn. Executions had already begun in the eastern districts before formal declarations of war even reached civilians.

Everything was collapsing too quickly.

And somewhere within the middle of it all stood Mafuyu.

Kanade kept imagining imperial courts discovering the truth. The emperor dragging Mafuyu before nobles already desperate for someone to blame. Public accusations. Treason charges. Executions disguised as patriotism.

Her chest hurt so badly it became difficult to breathe.

A knock sounded suddenly against the chamber door.

Kanade turned immediately, pulse quickening instinctively before Mizuki stepped inside carrying a lantern. Rainwater clung to the edges of her pale cape while candlelight cast uneasy shadows across her exhausted expression.

“You haven’t slept,” she observed quietly after shutting the door behind her.

Kanade looked away. “Neither have you.”

“Fair enough.”

Mizuki crossed the room slowly before setting the lantern near her desk. The warmer light illuminated scattered papers, unfinished reports, and maps abandoned carelessly across nearly every surface. At some point during the last few hours, Kanade had apparently started working again without fully realizing it.

Typical.

Her entire life had become surviving through exhaustion.

Mizuki’s gaze lingered briefly across the room before softening slightly. “You’re spiraling.”

Kanade laughed weakly beneath her breath. “I think the entire kingdom is spiraling.”

“I mean specifically about her.”

Silence.

Uhh...

Rain continued hammering softly against cathedral glass while distant thunder rolled somewhere far beyond the capital walls.

Kanade sank slowly into the chair beside her desk, fingers tightening unconsciously against the edge of a military report. “I can’t stop thinking about what happens if they find out.”

Mizuki remained quiet for several seconds before finally asking, “How bad is it?”

Kanade frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“The feelings.” Her voice lowered carefully now. “How bad are they?”

The question should have embarrassed her. Instead, exhaustion stripped away most of her ability to pretend.

Kanade stared silently toward the rain-covered windows while trying to find words large enough to contain something she barely understood herself.

“She makes me feel…” Her voice faltered briefly. “Like I’m being seen for the first time.”

Mizuki’s expression changed immediately to something sadder.

Kanade lowered her gaze toward her hands. “Everyone always needs something from me. Strategies. Compositions. Relief coordination. Answers.” Her throat tightened slightly. “But Mafuyu never looks at me like that.

Because Mafuyu understood.

Not through similarity exactly, but through damage. Both of them had spent so long sacrificing themselves for other people that neither fully remembered how to exist outside usefulness anymore.

Mizuki leaned quietly against the nearby wall, pale eyes lowered toward the floor now. “And does she love you back?”

The question settled heavily inside the room.

Kanade thought immediately of the palace gardens. Of Mafuyu silently giving her the imperial cloak despite the risk. Of the warning beneath moonlight. Of the way her expression always softened by microscopic amounts whenever they were alone together.

“Yes,” Kanade whispered eventually, but deep down, not even she was entirely sure. She just hoped that for an instance, she did feel something other than pity.

“I think she’s just afraid to need people.”

As if.

Rain continued falling endlessly outside.

Mizuki closed her eyes briefly before speaking again, voice quieter than before. “That might actually be worse.”

Kanade looked up slightly.

“She’ll destroy herself before admitting she wants to be saved,” Mizuki murmured.

The horrifying part was that Kanade immediately knew they were right.

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

Several miles away, the imperial palace remained awake beneath stormlight.

The atmosphere inside the eastern royal halls had become unbearable after the negotiations collapsed. Servants moved through corridors silently with lowered heads while imperial soldiers guarded nearly every entrance throughout the palace now, their dark armor reflecting candlelight like sharpened obsidian. Nobody trusted anyone anymore. Not nobles. Not advisors. Not even their own military.

Paranoia spread quickly during war.

Especially inside governments already rotting from within.

Mafuyu stood alone beside one of the palace balconies overlooking the capital while rain lashed violently against stone railings outside. The eastern districts beyond the palace walls disappeared beneath darkness and storm clouds, interrupted only by occasional flashes of torchlight from military patrols moving through flooded streets below.

She should have felt something stronger by now.

i. Fear.

ii. Guilt.

iii. Panic.

Instead, exhaustion hollowed everything into distant numbness.  

Behind her, enormous throne room doors opened slowly. “You’re avoiding the war council.”

Princess Ena’s voice carried softly through the dim chamber while silk fabric whispered against marble floors as she approached. Unlike earlier that evening, Ena no longer wore ceremonial attire. Her royal clothing had been exchanged for darker fabric stripped almost entirely of decorative jewelry, though exhaustion still clung visibly beneath her eyes.

Mafuyu did not turn around immediately.

“The council already decided what it wants,” she said quietly.

Ena stopped beside her near the balcony windows before crossing her arms tightly. “That doesn’t mean you should disappear during meetings.”

Silence followed.

Eventually Ena sighed tiredly. “The emperor’s ordering mass arrests by sunrise.”

Mafuyu’s gaze lowered slightly.

“How many?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Of course not.

Governments rarely counted carefully once executions became politically convenient.

Ena studied her expression carefully before speaking again, voice lower this time. “You warned her, didn’t you?”

Mafuyu remained silent.

Ena looked briefly toward the storm outside while tension tightened visibly across her shoulders. “You need to stop seeing her.”

The words landed like a blade between ribs. Mafuyu’s fingers tightened slightly against the balcony railing.

“She’s going to get you killed,” Ena whispered.

No.

That wasn’t the truth.

Kanade was not the danger.

The Empire was.

The throne.

The war.

The endless hunger powerful people carried for sacrifice and obedience.

Mafuyu finally spoke without looking away from the rain. “I know.”

Ena stared at her for several seconds before understanding slowly settled across her face.

“You really love her,” Ena murmured softly.

The silence afterward felt enormous.

Mafuyu had spent most of her life unable to understand her own emotions properly. Everything inside her often felt distant, blurred, incomplete. She struggled naming feelings even while experiencing them intensely enough to hurt. Sometimes warmth frightened her simply because she could not comprehend why it existed.

But Kanade made the emptiness inside her feel unbearable.

Not because Kanade filled it, because Kanade noticed it.

Mafuyu lowered her eyes slowly toward the rain-soaked capital beyond the palace walls.

Then, almost too quietly to hear:

“Yes.”

The imperial executions began before dawn.

Rain still covered the capital when the first prisoners were dragged into the eastern square beneath rows of black banners soaked dark by stormwater. Most civilians had not even woken yet, but soldiers flooded the streets regardless, forcing citizens from nearby homes to witness the punishment firsthand. The Empire believed fear worked best when shared publicly.

Mafuyu arrived only because attendance had been ordered.

The square looked colorless beneath morning fog. Torchlight flickered weakly against wet stone while imperial guards lined the execution platform with mechanical precision, their armor reflecting dull fragments of gray sunrise beginning to spread slowly across the horizon. Nobles gathered beneath covered balconies overlooking the square from above, whispering among themselves while servants poured tea as though they attended theater rather than state-sanctioned slaughter.

The prisoners knelt at the center platform with chains around their wrists.

Some cried openly.

Others looked too exhausted to react anymore.

Most had probably never actually betrayed the Empire at all.

That no longer mattered.

The emperor sat elevated above the crowd beneath a canopy of black silk, expression calm enough to feel monstrous. Age had hollowed him over the years into something sharp and skeletal, yet his eyes remained terrifyingly alive whenever punishment unfolded before him. Beside him stood advisors already discussing further arrests while soldiers forced civilians closer toward the platform below.

Mafuyu remained motionless near the edge of the imperial guard formation.

The rain had stopped.

Everything smelled like wet stone and smoke.

“The people require reminders during unstable periods,” one noble commented casually nearby while observing the prisoners. “Mercy breeds uncertainty.”

Mafuyu said nothing.

She no longer trusted herself to speak during these gatherings.

The first prisoner was forced forward moments later.

A young man.

Far too young.

His hands trembled violently against the wooden execution block while soldiers held his shoulders down hard enough to bruise. Someone in the crowd began sobbing quietly. Mafuyu wasn’t sure whether it was family or simply another civilian already breaking beneath fear.

The executioner raised the blade.

And suddenly Kanade appeared in Mafuyu’s thoughts so vividly it physically hurt.

Kanade standing beneath moonlight in the palace gardens with Mafuyu’s cloak around her shoulders.

Kanade looking at her gently instead of fearfully.

Kanade asking what she wanted people to see when they looked at her.

Mafuyu’s chest tightened sharply.

The blade fell.

Blood spread across rainwater.

The crowd flinched collectively.

And for one horrible moment, Mafuyu could only imagine Kanade seeing this version of her kingdom, the executions, the soldiers, the cruelty disguised as necessity -- and realizing too late that Mafuyu herself belonged to all of it.

A weapon standing silently beside monsters.

Another prisoner was dragged forward immediately after.

No pause.

No prayer.

The emperor barely even looked interested anymore.

Princess Ena stood several feet away near the upper balcony railings, expression perfectly composed for the watching court despite the visible tension in her posture. Only someone who knew her well would notice how tightly her fingers gripped the railing beneath jeweled sleeves.

Mafuyu noticed immediately.

Neither spoke.

There was nothing left worth saying here.

The executions continued.

By the fourth death, civilians had stopped reacting aloud entirely. Fear settled across the square like fog while imperial soldiers remained perfectly still around the platform, forcing the crowd to absorb every scream and every collapsing body in complete silence.

This was the point.

Mafuyu felt suddenly nauseous.

Not because she had never seen death before. Battlefields were worse. War always would be. She had watched soldiers die with their organs spilling across dirt while cities burned behind them beneath artillery fire.

But battlefields at least carried chaos.

Something inside her felt unbearably cold.

“Bring forward the informant," the emperor comanded.

Movement spread instantly across the square.

Two guards dragged another prisoner onto the platform, this one visibly injured from interrogation already. Blood stained the front of his clothing while one eye remained swollen shut beneath bruised skin. The crowd shifted uneasily as the prisoner struggled weakly against the guards forcing him down.

“He provided military intelligence to White Knight operatives,” the emperor announced calmly. “As all traitors eventually do, he believed sentiment mattered more than loyalty.”

Mafuyu’s pulse stopped for a second.

The emperor’s gaze drifted slowly across the assembled soldiers.

“Love,” he continued softly, “is the most pathetic form of betrayal.”

Mafuyu felt cold spread violently through her chest.

He knew.

Maybe not names.

But enough.

Enough to make this a warning.

The prisoner began crying openly while begging for mercy, though his voice shook too hard for most words to remain understandable. Around the square, civilians lowered their eyes toward the ground while nobles observed with detached fascination from above.

The emperor never looked away from the platform.

“Execute him.”

The guards forced the prisoner down.

Mafuyu stared forward without moving while screams echoed across the square loud enough to silence even the wind itself.

The blade fell again.

And something inside her cracked quietly.

She remained perfectly composed beside the imperial guard while blood soaked into rainwater below.

But suddenly all Mafuyu could think about was Kanade smiling softly beneath moonlight while asking impossible questions in palace gardens that no longer felt real anymore.

What do you want people to see?

Mafuyu still didn’t know the answer.

Only that she desperately did not want Kanade seeing this.

Kanade heard about the executions from soldiers before sunrise.

Not officially.

Official reports remained sanitized as always, stripped of screams and blood and fear until the deaths barely resembled human beings anymore. The documents arriving inside White Knight headquarters described the imperial punishments as “disciplinary measures against suspected informants.” But rumors traveled faster than written reports.

Especially horrifying ones.

By morning, everyone inside the cathedral district already knew civilians had been forced into the eastern square to witness the executions publicly. Some soldiers claimed the Empire executed twenty people. Others said forty. Nobody agreed on numbers anymore because fear distorted everything into something larger and uglier with every retelling.

Kanade sat silently inside the strategy chamber while commanders discussed retaliatory measures around her, but the conversations barely registered properly through the ringing in her ears.

Love is the most pathetic form of betrayal.

The sentence repeated endlessly in her mind despite never hearing it herself.

Because somehow she knew this was no longer ordinary political violence.

The Empire was searching for traitors now.

And Mafuyu—

Kanade’s stomach twisted painfully.

She could practically see her standing there beneath imperial banners while executions unfolded around her. Still. Silent. Forced into obedience beneath the emperor’s gaze while carrying emotions she barely understood herself.

The image made Kanade feel physically ill.

“You look awful.”

Akito dropped a stack of reports onto the strategy table before collapsing heavily into the chair beside her. He looked exhausted already despite the day barely beginning, orange hair disheveled while dirt and rainwater still stained portions of his uniform from overnight deployments.

Kanade lowered her gaze toward the papers automatically. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious.” His expression hardened slightly while the surrounding commanders continued arguing several feet away. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

Neither had he.

Nobody had.

The White Knights had mobilized almost entirely overnight after news of the imperial executions spread through the eastern territories. Entire battalions now prepared near border routes while cathedral storage chambers emptied of weapons faster than supply officers could track properly.

War no longer felt avoidable. It felt inevitable.

Akito leaned back against the chair with visible frustration before lowering his voice slightly. “The Empire’s trying to provoke retaliation.”

Kanade blinked faintly. “What?”

“The executions.” He gestured sharply toward the reports scattered across the table. “They want us angry enough to move first. Gives them justification for open invasion.”

He was right.

That was the horrifying part.

The Empire wanted escalation now.

Fear stabilized governments during wartime. So did outrage. So did grief transformed into patriotism sharp enough to feed directly into battlefields. Kanade stared blankly toward the maps spread across the strategy chamber walls. Entire sections of eastern territory already carried red markings now. Villages vulnerable to attack. White Knight positions. Predicted imperial movement routes, every line on those maps represented future graves.

“I hate this,” she whispered before realizing she spoke aloud.

Akito looked at her quietly for several seconds.

“Yeah.”

The simple honesty nearly hurt more than reassurance would have.

Around them, commanders continued debating troop movement while cathedral bells rang distantly overhead. Servants rushed endlessly through the corridors carrying sealed orders between military chambers. Somewhere outside, civilians gathered near cathedral gates begging White Knights for information nobody could honestly provide.

The kingdom was unraveling in real time.

And through all of it, Kanade could only think about Mafuyu.

Was she safe?

No.

Of course not.

Safety had probably ceased existing for her the moment the emperor began suspecting betrayal inside imperial ranks.

Kanade pressed trembling fingers briefly against her forehead, exhaustion settling painfully behind her eyes. She wanted to see Mafuyu. Even just once. Just enough to know she was alive and unharmed and still herself beneath everything the Empire was becoming.

The thought alone terrified her.

Because wanting Mafuyu this badly already felt dangerous.

A sharp knock interrupted the strategy chamber suddenly before one of the younger White Knights hurried inside visibly pale.

“Commander,” he said breathlessly, “there’s been another attack near the eastern routes.”

The room immediately fell silent.

“What happened?” Akito demanded.

“The imperial forces burned one of the supply villages near Aster territory.” The soldier swallowed hard. “Civilians were still inside.”

“How many deads?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds afterward.

Then the commanders erupted into shouting almost simultaneously.

Somewhere across the border, Mafuyu remained trapped inside the machinery causing all of it.

The thought suddenly became unbearable.

Before fully realizing what she was doing, Kanade stood abruptly from her chair.

Akito frowned immediately. “Kanade?”

“I need air.”

“Now?”

She didn’t answer.

The cathedral corridors outside felt colder than before as Kanade moved quickly through them beneath flickering candlelight. Soldiers brushed past constantly carrying weapons and sealed documents while echoes of military preparations filled every level of White Knight headquarters now, the kingdom no longer resembled a sanctuary, it resembled a war machine dressed in holy colors.

Kanade finally stopped only after reaching one of the upper cathedral balconies overlooking the capital. Cold morning wind struck her immediately while storm clouds still hung low across the skyline beyond distant palace towers.

Crowds filled the lower streets despite military curfews, civilians gathering desperately around newspaper postings and public announcements while soldiers attempted maintaining order through increasingly visible force. Even from here Kanade could hear shouting occasionally rising through the capital beneath the endless tolling of cathedral bells.

Dying.

She gripped the stone balcony railing tightly while trying to steady her breathing, but footsteps approached quietly behind her.

Mizuki.

Kanade recognized her immediately without turning around.

“You disappeared dramatically enough that everyone assumed you were about to collapse,” Mizuki murmured while stepping beside her beneath the gray morning sky.

Kanade laughed weakly beneath her breath. “Maybe I am.”

Mizuki’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

For a while, neither spoke. They simply stood together overlooking the frightened capital while wind moved sharply through pale cathedral banners overhead.

Mizuki asked quietly, “Do you want to see her?”

Kanade closed her eyes briefly.

“Yes.”

Mizuki studied her face for several seconds afterward before exhaling softly through her nose. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“I know.”

“And you’re still going to do it anyway.”

Kanade remained silent.

Below them, somewhere deep within the capital, cathedral bells continued ringing like funeral hymns across a kingdom already learning how to bury itself alive, the meeting place changed after the executions. Neither of them discussed it directly, but the ruined chapel outside the capital no longer felt safe enough after the Empire began hunting suspected informants. Patrols increased along the forest roads. Soldiers searched travelers entering and leaving eastern territories. Even abandoned districts near the border suddenly filled with military movement beneath black imperial banners.

So when Kanade finally slipped away from White Knight headquarters three nights later beneath freezing rain, she already knew Mafuyu would not be waiting at the chapel. Instead, she found her deep within the old greenhouse ruins beyond the western palace gardens.

The structure had once belonged to Helios royalty centuries earlier before wars and neglect left most of it collapsed beneath ivy and broken glass. Moonlight spilled through shattered ceiling panels overhead while dead vines crawled endlessly across cracked marble pillars, the remains of old winter flowers rotting quietly beneath puddles of rainwater.

The place felt forgotten, which made it perfect.

Kanade stepped carefully through the ruined greenhouse while pale fabric brushed softly against damp stone floors, her heartbeat loud enough to make breathing difficult. She had almost convinced herself Mafuyu wouldn’t come tonight. The journey itself had been dangerous enough already, sneaking past White Knight patrol routes, avoiding imperial scouts near the outer districts, crossing half-flooded forest paths alone beneath darkness while the kingdom practically collapsed around them.

This was insane, and still Kanade came anyway.

The thought of not seeing Mafuyu again had started hurting worse than fear itself.

Mafuyu emerged slowly from beneath the shadows of overgrown vines near one of the broken pillars, dark military coat damp from rain while silver details across the fabric reflected faint fragments of moonlight leaking through the ruined ceiling above. For several seconds neither of them spoke.

Kanade’s chest physically ached at the sight of her.

Mafuyu looked exhausted.

Not ordinary exhaustion either. Something deeper. Older somehow. Her posture remained perfectly composed as always, but faint shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes now, and there was a stiffness in the way she held herself that made Kanade think she probably had not slept properly in days.

The silence stretching between them felt painfully fragile.

Mafuyu spoke first: “You shouldn’t have come.” Her voice sounded quieter than usual.

Kanade hated how distant it felt.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

Mafuyu lowered her gaze slightly toward the flooded stone floor between them. Rainwater dripped steadily through broken glass overhead while cold wind stirred dead flower petals across the ground around their feet.

“The White Knights are increasing border patrols,” Mafuyu murmured. “If someone followed you-”

“They didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Kanade felt frustration twist sharply inside her chest.

Not because Mafuyu was wrong, but because she always sounded more concerned about Kanade’s safety than her own.

“You’re doing it again,” Kanade whispered.

Mafuyu blinked faintly. “Doing what?”

“Acting like only I’m in danger.”

. . .

Kanade stepped closer before continuing, voice quieter now. “Mafuyu…the Empire’s executing people.”

Something shifted briefly across Mafuyu’s expression. Still, Kanade saw it immediately.

“You heard about that.”

“They’re forcing civilians to watch.”

Mafuyu looked away.

Kanade’s throat tightened painfully. “Were you there?”

For several seconds Mafuyu said nothing at all.

“Yes.”

Kanade suddenly imagined Mafuyu standing beside the execution platform beneath imperial banners while prisoners screamed around her and nobles watched from above like spectators attending theater. The image made her stomach turn violently.

“You hated it,” Kanade whispered softly.

Mafuyu’s eyes widened slightly.

Cold wind moved through the broken greenhouse again, carrying rain deeper through shattered ceiling glass while moonlight flickered weakly across flooded marble floors. Mafuyu remained perfectly still for several seconds before finally speaking again, her voice lower now.

“The emperor suspects there are traitors inside the military.”

Kanade’s pulse quickened immediately.

“Mafuyu-”

“He used the executions as a warning.”

The calmness in her voice made the words feel even worse somehow.

Kanade stared at her in disbelief. “Then why are you here?”

Mafuyu looked at her then and suddenly the exhaustion inside her expression became unbearable to witness.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

The confession came so quietly it almost disappeared beneath the rain.

Mafuyu rarely spoke like this. Rarely admitted desire directly instead of hiding it beneath warnings and careful distance. Hearing those words from her now, exhausted, hunted, standing alone inside the ruins of a dying kingdom, felt almost devastating.

Without thinking, Kanade crossed the remaining distance between them.

“Mafuyu...”

“You should stay away from me for a while.”

The sentence stopped her immediately.

Mafuyu’s voice remained calm, but tension carved visibly through her posture now while rainwater slid slowly from strands of dark hair across pale skin. “The Empire’s investigating everyone connected to eastern operations,” she continued quietly. “If they discover anything about us...”

“They’ll kill you.”

Mafuyu fell silent.

“No,” Kanade whispered instantly. “No, Mafuyu, don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

Kanade grabbed the front of Mafuyu’s coat before she could stop herself.

The movement startled both of them.

Mafuyu froze completely.

Kanade’s hands trembled violently against dark fabric while emotions she had spent days suffocating finally surged upward all at once; fear, exhaustion, anger, grief.

“You keep acting like your life means nothing,” Kanade said shakily, voice breaking apart more with every word. “Like it’s acceptable if you disappear so long as other people survive.”

Mafuyu stared at her silently.

“I can’t do that,” Kanade whispered desperately. “I can’t just watch you throw yourself away for a kingdom that doesn’t even see you as a person.”

Just enough.

Her eyes lowered toward Kanade’s trembling hands gripping her coat while rain echoed endlessly around the ruined greenhouse. Then, slowly, carefully, Mafuyu reached upward and covered Kanade’s hands with her own.

Kanade nearly stopped breathing.

“I don’t know how to do this correctly,” Mafuyu admitted softly without looking away from her. “Wanting someone this much.”

The confession shattered something inside Kanade completely.

Kanade felt tears burn painfully behind her eyes almost immediately.

The rain continued pouring through the shattered greenhouse ceiling in thin silver streams, striking flooded marble beneath their feet while dead vines trembled softly against broken pillars around them. Everything about the ruined structure felt fragile now, as though one strong enough storm could collapse the entire place permanently.

Kanade suddenly understood the feeling intimately.

Mafuyu’s hands remained wrapped carefully around hers where they still gripped the front of her coat. The contact felt unbearably gentle compared to the war surrounding them. Mafuyu rarely initiated touch first. Rarely reached toward Kanade openly instead of hesitating beforehand like affection itself frightened her somehow.

Now she held Kanade tightly enough to betray how shaken she truly was beneath all the calmness.

“I’m not asking you to do it correctly,” Kanade whispered, voice unsteady. “I just want you to stop acting like losing you wouldn’t destroy me.”

Mafuyu’s gaze flickered downward immediately.

There it was again.

That look.

The one Kanade had started recognizing lately whenever emotions became too intense for Mafuyu to process properly, like she physically did not know where to place feelings this overwhelming inside herself.

“I don’t know how to stay.”

Kanade stared at her in disbelief, not because she thought Mafuyu meant it cruelly, but because the confession sounded so broken it hurt, like Mafuyu had spent her entire life preparing herself to disappear eventually, like love itself felt temporary by nature.

Careful not to startle her, Kanade slowly loosened her grip against Mafuyu’s coat before letting her hands slide downward into Mafuyu’s instead. Their fingers intertwined clumsily at first, unfamiliar only because Mafuyu still approached intimacy like something breakable.

Kanade wished desperately she could convince her it wasn’t.

“You don’t have to leave every time something hurts,” Kanade murmured softly.

Mafuyu just stared at her. The moonlight filtered weakly through broken glass overhead, illuminating exhaustion carved into the sharp lines of her expression while rain echoed endlessly around them. Up close like this, Kanade could see how tired she truly was now. 

“The Empire’s going to keep getting worse,” Mafuyu admitted after a long silence. “The emperor’s unstable, the court wants blood, and the soldiers…” She paused briefly. “Everyone’s angry enough now that they’ve stopped caring who dies as long as it feels justified.”

Kanade’s stomach twisted painfully, the White Knights were becoming the same.

Maybe slower. Maybe hidden beneath prettier words and cathedral sermons, but the change still existed, Kanade saw it every day now inside strategy meetings where commanders discussed civilian casualties like unfortunate arithmetic rather than human tragedy.

“What about you?” Kanade asked quietly. “What happens if the emperor starts suspecting you directly?”

. . .

“Mafuyu.”

“He won’t execute me immediately.”

The calmness in her voice made Kanade feel sick.

“Immediately?” she repeated weakly.

Mafuyu finally looked away toward the shattered greenhouse windows where rain blurred the distant outline of the capital beyond dark forests. “I’m still useful.”

Useful.

Again that word.

Kanade hated it so much, she always hated it.

“You’re not just useful,” she said immediately, almost sharply.

Kanade stepped closer instinctively until barely any space remained between them now, she could feel warmth radiating faintly through Mafuyu’s soaked military coat despite the freezing air filling the greenhouse ruins.

“You’re a person,” Kanade whispered desperately. “You matter outside of what you can do for people.”

Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before.

Kanade realized it all at once with horrifying clarity.

The Empire praised Mafuyu endlessly for her discipline, intelligence, and usefulness. Soldiers admired her efficiency, nobles admired her obedience, the emperor admired her loyalty.

But nobody asked whether Mafuyu herself was happy.

Nobody cared whether she was lonely.

Nobody cared whether she wanted to live rather than merely survive.

“Mafuyu…” Her voice trembled slightly now. “If this war keeps going, they’re going to destroy you.”

Mafuyu’s eyes lowered toward their intertwined hands

“Maybe.”

Kanade felt panic flare instantly. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Talking about yourself like you’re already dead.”

“I don’t know how to imagine a future anymore,” Mafuyu admitted quietly.

Kanade wanted one anyway, a future, I mean.

Without thinking further, she lifted one hand carefully toward Mafuyu’s face. The movement remained slow enough to give her time to pull away if she wanted, Kanade’s fingertips brushed gently against cold skin beneath rain-damp hair while Mafuyu went completely still beneath the touch. Her eyes fluttered slightly at the contact before lifting toward Kanade again with an expression so open and vulnerable it nearly broke her apart.

Kanade whispered softly, “Then imagine one with me.”

Mafuyu stared at her like the words themselves frightened her more than the war, because maybe they did. Wanting survival for herself was already difficult enough and wanting happiness probably felt impossible.

Kanade watched emotions move silently across Mafuyu’s expression before finally, slowly, Mafuyu leaned forward the smallest amount, not enough for a kiss, just enough for her forehead to rest gently against Kanade’s.

Kanade closed her eyes immediately.

Warm breath mingled softly between them while rainwater continued dripping somewhere through shattered glass overhead. Mafuyu’s hands still held hers tightly now, almost unconsciously.

“I love you,” Kanade whispered before fear could stop her.

Mafuyu froze.

Kanade’s pulse stumbled violently.

Maybe she shouldn’t have said it.

Maybe the timing was cruel.

Maybe Mafuyu wasn’t ready—

“I know.”

Even before the war. Even before secret meetings and ruined chapels and sleepless nights spent waiting for reports that determined whether entire districts still existed by morning. Mafuyu loved quietly, almost fearfully sometimes, like someone handling emotions sharp enough to cut through skin if held incorrectly.

Still, hearing “I know” instead of “I love you too” hurt in ways Kanade never fully admitted aloud.

The problem was that Kanade wanted everything from her, every soft look, every touch, every impossible confession Mafuyu struggled dragging into words, and sometimes that wanting made guilt settle heavily inside her chest, because Mafuyu was trying. Kanade knew she was. The realization softened the ache enough that she simply closed her eyes instead, forehead still resting carefully against Mafuyu’s while rain echoed endlessly through the greenhouse ruins around them, the air smelled like wet stone and dying flowers. Somewhere outside, thunder rolled quietly across distant skies above the capital.

Mafuyu spoke again. “You make me want things.”

Kanade opened her eyes slightly.

Mafuyu still avoided looking directly at her now, though her fingers remained tightly intertwined with Kanade’s. Moonlight spilling through broken glass illuminated the sharp lines of exhaustion across her face while shadows trembled softly beneath her lashes.

“I think that’s why this feels terrifying,” she admitted quietly. Mafuyu sounded genuinely confused by her own emotions, like someone discovering hunger after spending years convincing herself she didn’t need to eat.

“What kinds of things?” Kanade asked softly.

Mafuyu rarely answered personal questions immediately, Kanade had noticed that too. It was as though every emotion needed to be carefully examined before she trusted herself enough to speak it aloud.

Finally: “A home.”

Kanade stared at Mafuyu in stunned silence while rainwater dripped steadily through shattered ceiling glass nearby. Of every possible answer, she had not expected that one. Mafuyu’s expression tightened slightly, almost embarrassed by the confession now that it existed aloud between them.

“It’s strange,” she murmured. “I don’t really understand why.”

Kanade wanted to cry. Instead, she lifted her free hand carefully toward Mafuyu’s face again, fingertips brushing gently against damp skin beneath dark strands of hair. This close, she could practically feel the exhaustion radiating from her, years of emotional isolation buried beneath discipline and obedience until even basic warmth felt foreign.

“You deserve one,” Kanade whispered.

Mafuyu looked at her then, and suddenly something unbearably vulnerable surfaced across her expression.

“You say things like that very easily.”

Kanade frowned faintly. “Because they’re true.”

“No,” Mafuyu said softly, almost immediately. “Because you believe people can still be saved.”

“Mafuyu…”

“The Empire doesn’t work like you think it does.” Her gaze lowered slightly again. “People disappear all the time. Soldiers. Civilians. Even nobles if they become inconvenient enough.” A faint pause followed before she continued quieter still. “Everyone learns very quickly that survival matters more than kindness.”

Kanade hated hearing her talk like this.

“The fact that you survived that doesn’t mean you deserved it,” Kanade whispered.

Mafuyu went completely still.

Kanade realized instantly she had touched something deep enough to hurt.

Mafuyu’s breathing faltered almost imperceptibly before her expression carefully smoothed itself back into calmness again. But Kanade noticed the damage anyway, she always did lately.

"Mafuyu, I apologiz-"

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” Mafuyu murmured after a long silence.

“Huh...? Like what?”

“Like I’m someone worth mourning.”

“Mafuyu."

Mafuyu shook her head faintly before continuing. “If something happens eventually, I need you to survive it.”

“No.”

“You have to.”

“No,” Kanade repeated immediately, more forcefully this time. “Stop deciding alone that your death is acceptable.”

For the first time in several minutes, emotion flickered sharply across Mafuyu’s expression again, not anger exactly, more like distress at being confronted so directly.

“You think loving you is some kind of burden I’ll eventually regret,” she whispered. “But it isn’t.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

.

“When I was younger, my mother used to tell me that emotions only become dangerous once they start affecting your usefulness.”

Kanade felt immediate fury twist through her chest. “She said attachment makes people weak and predictable.” Mafuyu’s expression remained eerily calm despite the quiet devastation hidden underneath every word. “So I learned not to need things.”

Suddenly, everything made horrifying sense: the distance, the restraint, the way Mafuyu loved so carefully it bordered on painful. She had been taught that vulnerability itself was failure.

Kanade reached up instinctively and cupped Mafuyu’s face fully this time.

Warm skin beneath cold fingertips.

“You’re allowed to need people,” Kanade whispered fiercely. “You’re allowed to love someone enough that losing them scares you.” Her voice shook now despite her efforts to steady it. “And you’re allowed to want things for yourself.”

Just enough.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly beneath the soaked military coat while her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest moment beneath Kanade’s touch. When she finally spoke again, her voice sounded painfully soft.

“I want you.”

Before Kanade could answer, Mafuyu leaned forward very carefully and kissed her.

The kiss was careful.

Mafuyu kissed her like someone terrified of damaging something precious simply by touching it too roughly. Her lips were cold from rain, trembling faintly against Kanade’s in a way that betrayed emotions she could never fully hide no matter how controlled she tried remaining.

Kanade’s breath caught instantly.

For one impossible moment, the war disappeared. No imperial executions, no burning village, no cathedral bells mourning a kingdom already collapsing beneath its own fear, only Mafuyu standing impossibly close inside the ruined greenhouse while rain poured endlessly through shattered glass around them.

Kissing Kanade like this mattered more than survival itself.

Kanade’s hands slid instinctively higher along Mafuyu’s face, fingertips brushing damp strands of dark hair back gently while Mafuyu leaned into the touch almost unconsciously, the movement felt so small, so vulnerable.

The kiss deepened slowly after that.

Mafuyu’s fingers tightened around Kanade’s hands before eventually releasing them entirely only to settle uncertainly against Kanade’s waist instead, like she was still learning where affection belonged physically between two people who loved each other too much for a world this violent.

Kanade kissed her back immediately with all the tenderness she had been holding inside herself for weeks. No, months, maybe.

The realization startled her, had it really become this deep already?

Probably.

Kanade pulled away first only because breathing became necessary again. Their foreheads remained pressed together while rain echoed softly throughout the greenhouse ruins, both of them visibly shaken now despite the quietness surrounding them.

Mafuyu kept her eyes lowered.

Kanade noticed immediately.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she whispered softly.

A weak almost-smile flickered briefly across Mafuyu’s lips before disappearing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Mafuyu exhaled slowly through her nose while her hands remained carefully at Kanade’s waist, almost like she still couldn’t fully believe she was allowed to touch her this openly.

“I don’t know why this feels unreal,” Mafuyu admitted quietly after a while.

“Maybe because nothing else around us feels real anymore.”

Outside the greenhouse, thunder rolled again somewhere beyond the forests surrounding the capital. The storm had worsened now, rain struck the shattered glass overhead hard enough to sound almost violent while cold wind swept through the ruins carrying the scent of wet earth and dying flowers.

“The eastern battalions are moving tomorrow.”

Kanade stiffened immediately.

“Where?”

“The border villages near Aster territory.” Mafuyu’s gaze darkened slightly. “The Empire believes the White Knights are preparing artillery routes there.”

Kanade’s stomach dropped, because they were.

She knew that already from the strategy meetings earlier that day.

Both kingdoms were preparing for the same battle simultaneously, which meant thousands would likely die before the week ended.

Kanade pulled back slightly just enough to look properly at Mafuyu’s face again. “Then you’ll be there.”

“Yes.”

Fear twisted sharply through her chest.

The battlefield suddenly became horrifyingly real now that Mafuyu stood directly in front of her wearing imperial colors. Until this moment, some desperate part of Kanade’s mind had still separated the war from them somehow.

But Mafuyu was an imperial soldier.

Not metaphorically.

Like...she literally was.

Soon she would stand across battlefields from White Knights while entire villages burned around them.

Kanade felt nauseous.

“Mafuyu…”

Mafuyu already understood.

Kanade could see it in her expression immediately.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Kanade’s voice shook slightly. “If you’re there and I’m there and something happens-”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

War didn’t care about intentions, artillery didn’t care who people loved, neither did arrows. Fire, collapsing buildings, starvation, disease.

Mafuyu’s hands tightened faintly at her waist before slowly falling away entirely, the loss of warmth felt immediate.

“The emperor wants decisive retaliation,” she murmured. “If the White Knights reinforce the border, the Empire’s going to escalate quickly.”

Kanade hated how calmly she spoke about it, so she reached for her again immediately, fingers catching gently around the sleeve of Mafuyu’s coat before she could fully retreat.

“Come with me. We could leave before the fighting gets worse.” Her voice grew more desperate with every sentence. “There are southern territories outside both kingdoms. Coastal towns where nobody would recognize us.”

Mafuyu stared at her silently.

Kanade could practically see conflict moving behind her eyes.

“We don’t have to stay trapped here,” Kanade whispered. “Please.”

The silence afterward felt unbearable.

Rainwater dripped steadily nearby while distant thunder shook softly through the ruined greenhouse walls. Mafuyu looked suddenly torn apart by something invisible, expression tightening in microscopic ways Kanade had learned to notice instinctively.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Kanade stopped breathing.

Mafuyu looked away immediately afterward, almost ashamed of the confession.

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“Then why not?”

“When I leave, people will die. My battalion follows my orders, the emperor trusts me because I end battles quickly. If I disappear now, someone crueler takes command instead.”

Mafuyu wasn’t staying out of loyalty anymore, she was staying because she thought she could reduce the damage. Even now, surrounded by executions and political rot and endless violence, Mafuyu still believed her own suffering mattered less than everyone else’s survival. It was unbearably like her.

Kanade wanted to hate her for that answer, for choosing duty again, for standing in the middle of a collapsing empire and still believing she needed to hold the pieces together with bleeding hands while it destroyed her slowly in return.

But she couldn’t.

This was Mafuyu.

Mafuyu, who carried responsibility like chains wrapped permanently around her ribs. Mafuyu, who had been taught her entire life that her value existed only in what suffering she could endure for others. Mafuyu, who looked at battlefields and saw not glory, not patriotism, but calculations, how many lives she could still salvage before the fire spread too far.

“You can’t keep sacrificing yourself forever,” she whispered.

Mafuyu lowered her gaze. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Kanade stepped closer again until their foreheads nearly touched once more. “Because if you understood it properly, you’d realize your life matters too.”

The storm outside worsened suddenly, wind rattling broken greenhouse glass hard enough to make the entire structure groan softly around them. Rainwater splashed across the marble floors while vines trembled violently against shattered pillars.

For a moment, the greenhouse itself felt like it might collapse.

Kanade wondered bitterly if that was some kind of metaphor.

Mafuyu’s fingers lifted carefully toward Kanade’s face then paused halfway there, hesitation flickering visibly across her expression before she finally brushed damp strands of pale hair gently behind Kanade’s ear.

“I wish I met you before this,” Mafuyu murmured quietly.

“So do I,” Kanade whispered.

Mafuyu’s hand lingered softly against her cheek now, warm despite the freezing air surrounding them. The touch remained careful as always, yet there was something aching underneath it tonight. Something almost desperate beneath all the restraint. Kanade leaned into the contact instinctively.

And for the first time since they met, Mafuyu looked openly heartbroken.

Kanade saw it immediately, she always did, even when she didn't think about it.

Mafuyu looked like someone already grieving.

“No." Kanade reached up quickly, holding Mafuyu’s wrist gently before she could retreat again into silence.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Mafuyu blinked faintly. “Like what?”

“Like this is the last time.”

Mafuyu looked away first.

“Mafuyu.”

“The border offensive is going to become a massacre,” she admitted quietly after several seconds. “Both sides are angry enough that nobody’s thinking clearly anymore.”

“The White Knights won’t stop after one victory,” Mafuyu continued. “And the Empire won’t stop after one defeat.”

“How bad?” she whispered.

“The emperor authorized civilian cleansing near disputed territories if villages assist White Knight operations.”

Kanade physically recoiled.

“What?”

Mafuyu’s expression tightened slightly. “Officially they’re calling it strategic relocation.”

Kanade felt sick.

No.

No no no—

“They’re going to slaughter civilians.”

Mafuyu said nothing.

Because they both knew it was true.

Kanade stumbled backward slightly before turning away entirely, pressing trembling fingers against her mouth while nausea twisted violently through her stomach. The greenhouse suddenly felt suffocating. Too small, too cold.

Behind her, Mafuyu remained painfully quiet.

“I argued against it,” she said softly after a while.

Of course it hadn’t mattered.

“How are we supposed to survive this?” Kanade whispered shakily.

For several seconds Mafuyu didn’t answer.

Then Kanade felt careful hands settle lightly against her shoulders from behind.

The touch was hesitant, almost unsure.

“You survive,” Mafuyu murmured quietly near her ear, “by remaining kind anyway.”

Kanade turned around immediately.

Mafuyu looked startled for half a second before Kanade wrapped both arms around her without hesitation.

Mafuyu did not know what to do with affection like this.

Kanade realized it painfully every time. She buried her face against the damp fabric of Mafuyu’s coat while exhaustion and grief crashed violently through her all at once.

The empire wanted massacres.

The White Knights wanted retaliation.

“I don’t want you to die,” Kanade whispered shakily against her shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave you either.”

Kanade could feel Mafuyu breathing against her shoulder, uneven in ways she usually hid perfectly. Beneath the damp military coat, her body remained tense even while holding her back, as though years of instinct still expected warmth to disappear suddenly if she relaxed too much.

At this point, we could just say Kanade hated everything.

Carefully, she lifted one hand and threaded trembling fingers through Mafuyu’s rain-soaked hair.

Eventually Mafuyu pulled back first.

There was something unbearably exhausted in her expression now. The emotional restraint she usually maintained so carefully had started cracking wider tonight, exposing glimpses of someone painfully fragile underneath all the discipline and composure.

Kanade wondered suddenly how many years Mafuyu had spent forcing herself not to need comfort.

“Mafuyu"

“If the White Knights reach Aster first, the Empire’s going to respond by burning the surrounding territories.”

Always the battlefield.

“When?”

“Soon.” Mafuyu lowered her eyes briefly. “Probably within days.”

That was all.

Both kingdoms were rotting from the inside now.

Mafuyu’s voice came quietly beside her. “Most governments stop seeing people once war begins.”

Kanade laughed bitterly beneath her breath. “That sounds like something you learned.”

“It is.”

Kanade turned slightly toward her then. “What happened to you?”

“You don’t have to answer,” Kanade added quickly.

But Mafuyu stayed quiet long enough that eventually it became clear she was thinking about it seriously instead of avoiding the question outright.

“When I was thirteen,” she murmured quietly, “the Empire sent soldiers into one of the northern territories after a rebellion. My mother brought me with her to observe the aftermath.” Mafuyu’s expression remained calm, though her eyes had grown distant now. “The villages were still burning when we arrived. There were bodies everywhere. Some soldiers were executing survivors because they didn’t want witnesses remaining after the fighting ended.”

“Mafuyu…”

“I remember asking my mother if it was necessary. She told me kindness becomes irrelevant once stability is threatened.”

“That’s horrible.”

Mafuyu looked down toward her hands resting quietly in her lap. “I think that was the first time I realized adults could decide suffering was acceptable.”

The sentence shattered something inside Kanade completely. Without hesitation, she reached for Mafuyu’s hand again, warm fingers intertwined slowly with colder ones.

Mafuyu looked startled briefly before relaxing almost imperceptibly at the contact.

“You were just a kid,” Kanade whispered fiercely. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

Mafuyu’s eyes lowered toward their joined hands.

“I still remember the smoke.”

Mafuyu went still.

Kanade noticed Mafuyu probably didn't want to talk about it, so instead of asking further or pushing on, she rested her head on Mafuyu's shoulder, offering comfort if she accepted it. After only a moment, Mafuyu was relaxed enough to let her remain there.

Kanade must have fallen asleep eventually.

The storm had passed. Pale dawn light filtered weakly through the broken ceiling overhead now, illuminating puddles scattered across the marble floor in soft silver reflections. The greenhouse looked strangely peaceful after the violence of the night before. Quiet enough.

Kanade blinked blearily before realizing two things at once.

First, her head still rested against Mafuyu.

Second, Mafuyu was awake. Completely awake, and staring silently out toward the distant capital beyond the ruined windows while Kanade slept against her shoulder like something precious she didn’t want to disturb.

“Mafuyu…” she murmured softly, voice rough with exhaustion.

Mafuyu looked down immediately, the subtle shift in her expression after noticing Kanade awake nearly broke her heart again, so gentle...the kind of softness nobody else ever seemed allowed to witness from her.

“You should’ve woken me,” Kanade whispered.

“You looked tired.”

Kanade felt warmth ache through her chest despite everything.

The dawn light revealed even more exhaustion across Mafuyu’s face now, dark shadows beneath her eyes. Tension still carved faintly into her posture despite the quiet surrounding them, she probably hadn’t slept at all.

“You stayed awake the whole night, didn’t you?”

Mafuyu looked away slightly, which meant yes.

Kanade sighed quietly before sitting up properly beside her, though she kept their shoulders touching. The air inside the greenhouse had grown colder after the rain stopped. Mist drifted faintly beyond the broken walls while distant forests remained soaked beneath early morning light.

Kanade noticed something folded carefully beside Mafuyu on the stone bench, a map. Imperial markings covered portions of it.

Her stomach dropped instantly. 

What the hell did this mean? After all of this?

“Mafuyu…”

Mafuyu’s gaze lowered toward the map quietly. “I brought it for you.”

Kanade froze. “You can’t.”

“The White Knights need to evacuate the villages near the eastern forests before the Empire advances.” Mafuyu’s voice remained calm. “These are the planned routes.”

Kanade stared at her in disbelief.

“That’s treason.”

“Yes.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Kanade’s pulse quickened violently. “Mafuyu, if someone finds out—”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do-”

“They’ll execute me.”

Kanade felt cold spread through her entire body. She felt like they already had this conversation before.

“No,” Kanade whispered immediately. “You can’t keep risking yourself like this,” she continued shakily. “Not for me. Not for anything or anyone.”

“It isn’t just for you.” Mafuyu’s eyes lowered toward the map resting between them. “If those villages aren’t evacuated in time, civilians are going to die.”

Of course.

Of course Mafuyu would risk herself for strangers too.

Kanade suddenly wanted to scream. The Empire did not deserve her loyalty or her kindness, yet Mafuyu continued trying to save people anyway even while the system surrounding her slowly consumed every part of her life.

“You shouldn’t have to carry this alone,” Kanade whispered painfully.

Mafuyu remained silent for several seconds before quietly replying, “I’m used to it.”

Carefully, Kanade reached for the map between them, fingers brushing briefly against Mafuyu’s. Imperial troop routes stretched across the parchment in dark ink alongside villages marked with symbols indicating predicted military cleansing zones.

Her stomach twisted violently.

There were so many.

“Mafuyu…” Kanade’s voice nearly failed her. “This is genocide.”

“I know.”

The greenhouse suddenly felt suffocating again.

Kanade stared numbly at the marked villages while dread settled heavily through her chest. Families still lived in those territories, children, elderly civilians, entire communities were about to disappear beneath military language like “strategic relocation.”

And Mafuyu sat beside her carrying the burden of knowing it beforehand. How much horror had she been forced to witness already?

“How are you still standing?” Kanade whispered without thinking.

Mafuyu looked genuinely surprised by the question.

Kanade turned toward her fully now, eyes burning again with exhausted grief. “Most people would’ve broken already.”

A strange expression crossed Mafuyu’s face then.

“You make it easier lately.”

Kanade stopped breathing for half a second.

Mafuyu looked away almost immediately afterward, as though embarrassed by the honesty of the confession now that it existed aloud between them.

But Kanade felt her entire chest ache warmly despite the horror surrounding them.

“You mean that?”

“Yes.” Mafuyu continued softly, “Before meeting you, I thought surviving was the same thing as living.”

“You deserve more than survival,” Kanade whispered.

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

Suddenly, a distant explosion echoed somewhere beyond the forests. Both of them froze instantly, the sound rolled faintly across the morning air from somewhere east of the capital.

Kanade’s blood ran cold.

Mafuyu stood abruptly.

“The border.”

Her voice sharpened immediately into military focus despite the horror flashing briefly across her expression.

Kanade rose too, panic rising fast inside her chest now while more distant booms echoed faintly through the dawn beyond the ruined greenhouse walls.

The offensive had started.

Mafuyu looked toward the eastern horizon where faint smoke already began staining the pale morning sky, then she turned back toward Kanade with an expression that terrified her instantly.

It looked exactly like goodbye.

Kanade’s pulse lurched violently.

The smoke rising beyond the eastern forests looked wrong against the pale dawn sky. Too thick already. Too dark. More explosions echoed faintly across the distance while birds scattered upward from the treeline in frantic swarms, vanishing into the clouds overhead.

The battlefield had opened.

And suddenly everything inside the greenhouse changed. The fragile stillness from moments earlier shattered almost instantly beneath military reality crashing back into place around them. Mafuyu stood motionless near the broken windows, posture rigid now while cold morning light illuminated the sharp lines of her expression. Kanade watched the transformation happen in real time, the softness disappearing behind discipline again, emotions forced quickly back beneath control because soldiers were not allowed to hesitate once war began.

Kanade hated it.

Hated the way Mafuyu immediately started turning herself back into a weapon.

“Mafuyu…”

“The White Knights moved sooner than expected,” she murmured quietly.

Another distant explosion rolled through the air.

Kanade flinched instinctively.

Mafuyu noticed immediately.

Her expression softened for only a second before tightening again.

“You need to go back before patrols notice you’re missing.”

Kanade stared at her in disbelief. “That’s what you’re saying right now?”

“The battlefield’s active now.” Mafuyu turned fully toward her, voice lower. “If the Empire realizes I disappeared during mobilization-”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

Kanade felt anger flare suddenly through the fear choking her chest. “No,” she snapped softly. “I’m tired of hearing that.” She stepped toward her immediately, emotions finally spilling over after days of terror and sleeplessness and watching kingdoms descend into madness around them.

“You keep acting like your death is inevitable,” she whispered shakily. “Like I’m supposed to accept it because you already have.”

Mafuyu looked away, that only hurt more.

Outside, the distant sound of artillery continued echoing across the forests separating both kingdoms while smoke climbed steadily higher into the morning sky. Somewhere out there, soldiers were already dying, but Kanade could barely think past the unbearable fear tightening around her ribs now.

“Mafuyu, look at me.”

Slowly, Mafuyu obeyed.

And Kanade almost wished she hadn’t.

Because underneath all the military composure, there was fear there too now. Mafuyu just carried it differently, quieter, buried beneath obedience and restraint until it became difficult to distinguish from numbness.

Kanade’s voice cracked slightly. “You’re not coming back from this, are you?”

The silence answered for her.

“No,” Kanade whispered instantly, tears burning hot behind her eyes again. “No, don’t do that.”

“I’m trying to be realistic.”

“You’re trying to disappear before anyone can stop you.” Kanade stepped closer until only inches remained between them. “You said you wanted a home,” she whispered desperately. “You said I made surviving feel different, so don’t stand here acting like none of that matters anymore.”

“It matters too much.”

The confession escaped before Mafuyu could stop it. She looked suddenly exhausted beyond words again, dark eyes trembling faintly beneath the weight of emotions she still struggled naming properly. “That’s why this hurts. Before you, I could do what was necessary without…” Her voice tightened slightly. “Without thinking about what I might lose.”

Loving someone had finally made Mafuyu afraid to die.

Another explosion echoed distantly, closer this time.

Mafuyu shut her eyes briefly before forcing herself to continue. “If the Empire loses control of Aster territory, the emperor’s going to authorize full cleansing operations.”

“You can’t stop that alone.”

“No,” Mafuyu agreed softly. “But I can reduce the damage.”

Tears slipped down Kanade’s face before she realized she was crying.

Mafuyu visibly panicked at the sight, immediately she stepped forward, hands rising uncertainly toward Kanade’s face like she wanted to wipe the tears away but feared making things worse somehow.

“Kanade…”

“I hate this,” Kanade whispered brokenly. “I fucking hate these kingdoms and this war and-! And the way they keep taking pieces of you until you act like your life belongs to everyone except yourself!”

Mafuyu’s expression crumpled almost invisibly, she carefully touched Kanade’s face. “I don’t know how to choose myself anymore."

Kanade grabbed her wrists immediately. “Then let me help you.”

For one terrible moment, Mafuyu looked tempted. Kanade saw it clearly now, the exhaustion, the grief, the desperate longing buried beneath years of obedience. She wanted escape. Wanted peace. Wanted Kanade badly enough that it frightened her.

But beyond the greenhouse walls, the war kept roaring closer, and Mafuyu heard it too. So she slowly, painfully, lowered her hands from Kanade’s face.

“I have to go.”

The words felt like a blade twisting slowly through Kanade’s chest.

“No.”

“Kanade-”

“No.” Her voice broke completely now. “Please. Please don't go, please...don't leave, Mafuyu, I'm serious!"

Mafuyu looked shattered by the plea, yet still stepped backward toward the ruined doorway leading outside into the drenched forests beyond.

Every movement felt unreal.

Kanade followed immediately. “Mafuyu, if you leave now—”

“I know.”

There was no guarantee they would see each other again after today. The battlefield did not care about promises or love or unfinished conversations whispered inside ruined greenhouses before dawn.

Mafuyu stopped near the doorway one final time, the cold morning wind swept through the broken structure, lifting strands of dark hair across exhausted eyes while smoke continued rising in the distance behind her.

“If I survive this…I’ll come back to you.”

Before Kanade could answer, Mafuyu turned and disappeared into the rain-soaked forest while the sounds of war echoed endlessly across the horizon.

The forest swallowed Mafuyu almost immediately.

One second, Kanade could still see the dark shape of her military coat moving between rain-drenched trees beyond the greenhouse ruins, and the next the storm-gray morning consumed her entirely. Only the distant sound of artillery remained afterward, echoing endlessly across the eastern horizon like the kingdom itself splitting apart.

Kanade stood frozen near the shattered doorway long after Mafuyu disappeared.

Her chest hurt so badly she thought she might collapse.

“Mafuyu…”

No responde. Mafuyu was already returning to the battlefield. Returning to the Empire. Returning to the machinery that kept devouring her piece by piece while she desperately tried salvaging lives from underneath it.

Kanade hated herself for letting her go.

But what else could she have done?

Chain Mafuyu inside the greenhouse while villages burned?

The thought alone made grief twist violently through her stomach.

Another explosion thundered somewhere eastward.

Kanade forced herself to move at last. The journey back toward White Knight territory blurred together afterward into fragments of cold rain and exhaustion, the forest paths had become mud beneath the storm, boots sinking against flooded earth while distant artillery continued shaking birds from trees overhead. Several times Kanade nearly stumbled from sheer fatigue alone. She had barely slept in days, barely eaten either.

Still, she kept walking.

By the time the cathedral district finally emerged through the rain-soaked haze hours later, Helios no longer resembled the same capital Kanade left behind.

Smoke rose from several outer districts already, not from direct attacks, from mobilization. Massive cathedral furnaces burned continuously now to forge weapons and melt armor repairs while military supply caravans flooded the streets beneath White Knight banners. Civilians crowded desperately around public squares where soldiers nailed casualty reports and emergency announcements against stone walls faster than scribes could copy them properly.

People were crying openly now.

No one bothered pretending the kingdom remained stable anymore.

When she finally reached Knights of White headquarters, chaos swallowed her immediately.

Soldiers rushed endlessly through the cathedral corridors carrying bloodstained reports while medics moved injured scouts toward underground treatment chambers below. The air smelled sharply of iron now beneath candle smoke and rain.

And everywhere, literally everywhere, people kept saying the same word.

Aster.

“Aster’s eastern wall collapsed before dawn-”

“Imperial soldiers crossed the river routes-”

“The White Knights retaliated near the lower villages-”

“Civilian casualties still unconfirmed-”

Kanade felt sick.

A hand grabbed her wrist suddenly.

She flinched instinctively before realizing it was Mizuki. Relief and alarm crossed their expression simultaneously upon seeing her.

“Where the hell were you?”

Kanade opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Mizuki froze immediately afterward, taking in her soaked clothing, exhausted face, and the unmistakable devastation written across her expression.

“Oh,” she whispered softly. She knew enough.

Without another word, Mizuki pulled Kanade quickly through the cathedral corridors away from the surrounding soldiers and into one of the quieter archive chambers lining the upper levels. The moment the heavy doors shut behind them, muffling the chaos outside slightly, Kanade felt her knees nearly give out from exhaustion.

Mizuki caught her immediately. “Hey— hey, easy.”

Kanade pressed trembling fingers hard against her mouth because suddenly crying felt dangerously close. “Mafuyu left,” she whispered brokenly.

Mizuki’s expression darkened instantly.

“The offensive started while we were together.”

Together.

Kanade shut her eyes tightly. “She went back to the Empire.”

Of course she had, because Mafuyu always ran toward suffering instead of away from it.

Mizuki guided her carefully toward one of the archive benches before crouching slightly in front of her, her pale eyes sharp despite the visible exhaustion beneath them.

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kanade, things are getting bad very fast.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean really bad.” Their voice lowered further now. “The White Knights intercepted imperial orders this morning.”

Kanade looked up weakly.

Mizuki hesitated.

“The Empire authorized village purges.”

Kanade felt cold flood through her instantly. So the information Mafuyu gave her was already spreading....which meant one terrifying thing.

“She was telling the truth,” Kanade whispered.

Mizuki stared carefully at her. “You already knew.”

Silence.

Again, just enough.

Mizuki closed her eyes briefly. “God.”

Kanade’s hands shook violently now. “She’s trying to stop it,” she whispered desperately. “Mafuyu doesn’t want any of this.”

“I believe you.”

“But it won’t matter if the Empire finds out.”

Because they would kill her, publicly probably. The emperor would turn Mafuyu into another warning beneath imperial banners just like the others.

Kanade suddenly couldn’t breathe properly. “She said if she survives…” Her voice cracked completely. “She said she’d come back.”

Mizuki’s expression softened instantly into something almost painful, and that terrified Kanade more than anything else.

Because it looked like pity.

Kanade hated that look immediately.

“She’ll come back,” She said instantly, too quickly, like saying it fast enough could force reality into obeying her. “She promised.”

Mizuki’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly.

Outside the archive chamber, the cathedral corridors still roared with distant chaos, boots against stone floors, shouted military orders, bells tolling endlessly across the capital. Somewhere below them, wounded soldiers were probably already filling the underground medical halls.

The war had barely begun, and people were already drowning in it.

Mizuki sat beside Kanade slowly after a long silence, her elbows resting against her knees while exhaustion shadowed her features heavily now. For once, even she looked frightened. “That battlefield’s going to become hell by tonight,” she murmured quietly.

Mafuyu was there now.

“She looked so tired,” Kanade whispered without meaning to say it aloud. “Like she already knew what was going to happen,” her voice grew weaker. “But she still went anyway.”

Kanade realized with sudden terror, that devotion was going to kill her, the thought nearly made her physically ill.

A sharp knock suddenly echoed against the archive chamber doors before either of them could speak again.

Mizuki stiffened immediately.

“So much for privacy,” she muttered darkly before standing.

The doors opened moments later, Akito stepped inside.

He looked awful. Mud and ash stained portions of his White Knight uniform while fresh blood marked the edges of one sleeve, not necessarily his own. Exhaustion carved hard shadows beneath his eyes now, his ginger hair damp from rain and battlefield smoke.

The moment he saw Kanade, his expression darkened. “There you are.”

Kanade’s stomach dropped instantly.

Akito crossed the room quickly, shutting the archive doors firmly behind himself before lowering his voice.

“The commanders are looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Because you disappeared during mobilization.” His gaze sharpened. “And because someone reported seeing you near the eastern forest routes last night.”

Cold flooded Kanade’s body.

Mizuki swore immediately beneath her breath.

Akito’s eyes flicked between both of them carefully now, intelligent enough to notice the panic settling across Kanade’s face.

“You met someone, right?” he asked quietly.

Kanade couldn’t breathe.

Akito stared at her for several long seconds before dragging one hand harshly across his face in exhausted frustration.

“Kanade,” he whispered. “Please tell me you weren’t stupid enough to cross into imperial territory during active mobilization.”

She looked away.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mizuki stepped forward instantly. “Keep your voice down.”

“Do you understand what happens if the commanders find out?” Akito hissed softly, fury and fear tangling together beneath his exhaustion. “She could be executed for espionage.”

Kanade flinched visibly, Akito noticed her expression immediately, suddenly his anger faded slightly beneath concern.

“…It’s serious,” he realized quietly.

Mizuki crossed their arms tightly nearby, posture tense. “No kidding.”

Akito stared at Kanade for several seconds longer before exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Who is it?”

Kanade could not answer that question, could not speak Mafuyu’s name aloud inside White Knight headquarters while war consumed the borderlands.

Akito understood anyway, his face drained of color slowly. “No,” he whispered.

Kanade shut her eyes.

“No way.”

Mizuki looked miserable now.

Akito took a step backward like the realization physically struck him. “An imperial soldier?” he laughed once under his breath, sharp and disbelieving. “Kanade, what the hell were you thinking?!”

“I love her.” There was that pathetic excuse.

Kanade stared downward toward trembling hands in her lap while the weight of those words settled heavily through the archive chamber. She loved Mafuyu enough that breathing hurt now, she loved her enough to betray kingdoms, enough to risk death, enough that the thought of losing her felt unbearable, enough to-

“She’s not…” Akito stopped himself abruptly before trying again quieter. “Kanade, imperial soldiers are burning villages right now.”

“I know.”

“And you still—”

“I know!”

Her voice cracked hard enough to silence the room instantly. Kanade pressed shaking fingers against her eyes while grief finally tore fully through whatever composure remained. “She hates it,” she whispered brokenly. “She’s trying to stop them.”

Akito stared at her helplessly, Mizuki looked away entirely now.

“The Empire’s planning civilian purges,” Kanade continued shakily. “Mafuyu gave me the routes herself so we could evacuate people before the attacks.”

That got both their attention immediately.

Akito’s expression sharpened. “What?”

Kanade realized too late what she admitted aloud.

Mizuki swore quietly again.

Akito stepped closer instantly. “Kanade, do you understand what kind of information that is?”

“Yes.”

“That could save thousands of civilians.”

“I know.”

“And an imperial officer gave it to you willingly?”

Kanade’s throat tightened painfully. "She doesn’t want this war, please believe me."

“Treason,” Akito mumbled quietly. “On both sides.”

Kanade thought immediately of Mafuyu standing beneath imperial banners while executions stained rainwater red across the square.

Love is the most pathetic form of betrayal.

“She’s going to die if they find out,” Kanade whispered.

Akito’s expression alone told Kanade everything she already feared, there were no good outcomes left anymore. Not in wars like this. Outside the archive chamber, cathedral bells continued tolling across Helios in slow mournful waves.

Funeral bells.

Even before the bodies properly arrived.

Mizuki finally broke the silence first. “We need to use the evacuation routes immediately.”

Akito looked toward them sharply, military focus returning almost instinctively despite the exhaustion weighing heavily across his face. “If the information’s accurate, we can move civilians before the imperial forces reach the eastern villages.”

“It’s accurate,” Kanade whispered instantly, because Mafuyu would never lie about something like this, not when lives were involved.

Akito studied her expression carefully for several seconds before nodding once. He believed her.

Trusting the information meant trusting Mafuyu too, at least a little. And somehow that tiny fragment of faith from another White Knight felt painfully fragile inside a world built entirely around hatred now.

Akito dragged one hand tiredly through damp hair before speaking again. “The commanders need this immediately.”

Cold panic shot through Kanade’s chest. “No.”

Both Akito and Mizuki looked at her.

“You can’t tell them where it came from.”

Akito frowned. “Kanade—”

“If the commanders realize an imperial officer leaked classified routes—”

“They’ll start hunting for the source,” Mizuki finished quietly.

Exactly.

And once investigations began, it would not take long for suspicion to spread through imperial ranks too. Someone would notice troop movements had been anticipated. Someone would realize information leaked before deployment.

Then Mafuyu would die, Kanade knew it with horrifying certainty.

Akito looked conflicted now, jaw tightening slightly while distant shouting echoed through the cathedral corridors outside.

“We can alter the source report,” Mizuki suggested after a moment. “Claim scouts intercepted movement patterns independently.”

Akito hesitated. “It’s risky,” he hissed.

“So is letting civilians burn alive.” That ended the argument quickly.

Akito exhaled sharply through his nose before nodding once more. “Fine.”

Kanade suddenly felt exhausted beyond words, both Akito and Mizuki noticed immediately.

“You need sleep.”

The suggestion sounded almost absurd now. Sleep? While artillery already thundered across the eastern borderlands? While Mafuyu marched directly into slaughter?

Kanade laughed weakly beneath her breath, the sound hollow even to herself. “I don’t think I can.”

Akito’s expression softened slightly despite himself. “You’re not useful unconscious either.” That almost sounded like concern.

Mizuki leaned back against one of the archive shelves nearby. “He’s right. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Kanade pressed her trembling fingers against her forehead. Everything hurt; her chest, her thoughts, her entire body weighed down beneath sleeplessness and fear until even standing upright felt increasingly difficult.

“What if she’s already hurt?”

Mizuki’s voice softened carefully. “Kanade…”

“She was exhausted already,” Kanade whispered. “And she still went back.” Kanade rose abruptly from the bench before either of them could react.

Mizuki frowned immediately. “Where are you going?”

“I need air.”

“Kanade—”

“I just need a minute.”

Neither stopped her this time.

The cathedral corridors outside felt colder than before. Soldiers rushed endlessly through them carrying medical supplies, deployment orders, casualty reports. Some looked terrified, others looked numb already. White banners draped from the high stone ceilings overhead while candlelight flickered weakly against the chaos unfolding beneath them.

War transformed people quickly, Kanade moved through the corridors numbly until she reached one of the outer cathedral balconies overlooking the capital below.

The sight nearly stole her breath.

Smoke covered portions of the city now, but no direct attacks yet, furnace smoke, emergency burn pits, military signals rising into the gray sky while civilians flooded the lower streets beneath growing panic. The cathedral bells echoed endlessly above the noise while soldiers attempted maintaining order near overcrowded supply stations.

And beyond all of it, far on the eastern horizon, dark smoke climbed steadily upward from the borderlands: The battlefield.

Somewhere underneath that smoke, Mafuyu was fighting already, the thought hollowed her out completely. She started remembering; Mafuyu resting her forehead against hers inside the greenhouse ruins, Mafuyu whispering "I want you" like the confession itself terrified her, Mafuyu admitting softly that Kanade made surviving feel different now. 

She also remembered the way Mafuyu looked at her, the way she was terrified of dying but hiding it from Kanade just because she didn't really want her to look scared, vulnerable even. 

Kanade shut her eyes hard enough to ache.

Please survive.

The prayer repeated silently through her mind over and over again.

Please come back.

A distant scream echoed somewhere below in the capital streets, Kanade opened her eyes again just as another cathedral bell rang across Helios.

The kingdom was preparing for funerals before the battle had even ended, that realization settled into Kanade’s chest like ice. The kingdom had already accepted mass death as inevitable.

Not even privately, but openly.

Every cathedral bell ringing across Helios now sounded less like warning and more like preparation. Soldiers carried stacks of black mourning cloth through the lower districts while priests moved between crowded streets offering blessings to civilians evacuating eastern territory. Entire sections of the capital had begun boarding their windows despite the battle still raging miles away. People expected the war to reach them eventually.

Kanade stared across the city from the balcony while cold wind swept smoke through the skyline.

Somewhere below, children cried near one of the supply stations while exhausted civilians fought over bread distribution beneath armed White Knights attempting to maintain order. Medical carts already crowded the cathedral entranceways now, stained with blood and rainwater as wounded scouts arrived from the border routes faster than healers could treat them. The offensive had only started this morning, and already the kingdom looked haunted.

Mafuyu was still out there.

The thought looped endlessly through her mind now with suffocating intensity. Every distant plume of smoke beyond the eastern horizon made panic rise sharper inside her chest. Every bell. Every screaming civilian below. Every medic rushing bloodied soldiers through cathedral gates.

What if one of the next stretchers carried her?

Kanade nearly felt sick again. Behind her, footsteps approached quietly across the balcony stones, she didn’t turn immediately, only when the figure stopped beside her did she finally glance sideways.

Toya.

Unlike Akito and Mizuki, Toya wore imperial colors openly even inside White Knight territory, though currently hidden beneath a dark traveling cloak soaked from rain. One of the few neutral diplomatic protections still functioning between both kingdoms allowed certain envoys temporary sanctuary within cathedral grounds.

For now.

Still, several nearby White Knights visibly tensed upon seeing him.

Toya ignored them entirely, his expression looked grim.

“You heard already,” Kanade murmured quietly.

Toya nodded once.

“The eastern front collapsed faster than expected.”

Kanade’s stomach twisted.

He looked exhausted too. More than usual. Dark shadows beneath his eyes while damp blue-black hair clung slightly against his face from the rain outside. Yet unlike most imperial officers, Toya carried none of the cold pride the Empire encouraged in its soldiers lately, only worry.

“Do you know where Mafuyu’s battalion is stationed?” Kanade asked immediately.

Toya hesitated.

“Toya.”

“They were deployed near the lower river routes before dawn.”

Exactly where the fighting would be worst. The lower river territories acted as the main crossing between Aster and the eastern villages. Narrow terrain. Difficult retreat paths. Perfect conditions for massacres once artillery began.

And Mafuyu was there.

Of course she was.

Toya lowered his voice carefully. “The imperial court’s already receiving casualty reports.”

“How bad?”

“They haven’t released official numbers yet.” His gaze darkened slightly toward the smoke-covered horizon. “But bad enough that the emperor authorized secondary deployment.”

Secondary deployment, Kanade knew what that meant; more soldiers, more fire, more bodies. The Empire intended escalation immediately.

Beside her, Toya remained silent for several moments before quietly adding:

“Rui’s there too.”

Kanade blinked faintly.

The imperial court magician.

The Empire’s weapon disguised as a genius.

Rui rarely appeared on battlefields personally unless the situation had already become catastrophic.

“What are they planning?” she whispered.

Toya looked away.

“That’s the problem.” His voice lowered further. “Nobody fully knows anymore.”

The sentence unsettled her deeply, becauseToya wasn’t afraid of war itself, he was afraid of the emperor.

Kanade remembered suddenly what Mafuyu once confessed quietly beneath moonlight weeks earlier: The Empire’s unstable now.

At the time, Kanade thought she meant politically.

A sharp commotion suddenly erupted below in the cathedral courtyard, both Kanade and Toya looked down immediately. Another medical caravan had arrived, this one worse than the others. Blood covered the wooden transport carts almost entirely while medics shouted desperately for additional healers near the cathedral entrance. Several wounded soldiers screamed openly as they were carried toward underground treatment halls, limbs hastily bandaged while rainwater washed crimson across the stone courtyard beneath them.

Kanade physically froze.

Some of them looked barely older than children.

Toya’s expression hardened instantly. “The battle spread faster than predicted.”

Kanade couldn’t look away from the wounded soldiers below.

One White Knight stumbled from a cart clutching his stomach while blood poured endlessly between trembling fingers. Another soldier cried for someone over and over while medics restrained him hard enough to bruise.

The sounds reached the balcony clearly now.

Pain.

Panic.

Fear.

This was only the first day.

“Mafuyu’s still there,” Kanade whispered weakly.

The word felt fragile. Toya looked back toward the eastern horizon afterward where smoke continued swallowing the sky beyond distant forests. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded strangely quiet.

“She talks about you differently than she talks about anyone else. Mafuyu usually sounds detached from everything. Even herself sometimes.” Toya said, a faint pause followed. “But whenever she mentions you, it’s like she suddenly remembers she’s human.” He exhaled softly through his nose while below them more wounded soldiers were dragged toward cathedral treatment halls beneath the endless tolling bells.

“She’s afraid,” he admitted.

Kanade looked at him immediately.

“Not of dying,” Toya clarified quietly. “Of wanting to live.”

The words struck somewhere deep enough to physically ache because they explained Mafuyu way too perfectly. Mafuyu wasn’t afraid of death, she was afraid of allowing herself to want a future badly enough that losing it would destroy her.

And somehow that realization hurt worse than anything else.

Kanade gripped the balcony railing harder while tears blurred the smoke-covered skyline beyond the capital. Down below, the cathedral courtyard remained chaos; medics shouting over one another, wounded soldiers collapsing against bloodstained carts, civilians crying openly while priests attempted offering comfort no one truly believed anymore.

The war was eating everyone alive already.

Toya watched her quietly beside the stone railing.

“She didn’t say it directly,” he murmured after a while. “Mafuyu almost never does.” A faint sadness crossed his expression. “But I think meeting you frightened her because suddenly she had something the Empire could take away.”

Kanade shut her eyes tightly.

The greenhouse returned vividly in fragments.

I want a home.

If I survive this… I’ll come back to you.

Her chest hurt so violently now it almost felt impossible to remain standing. “She shouldn’t have gone back,” Kanade whispered brokenly.

Toya looked toward the battlefield smoke again. “She was always going to.”

Ugh...

Another medical cart rolled violently into the cathedral courtyard below them. This time several soldiers rushed forward immediately carrying stretchers already soaked dark red. One wounded White Knight screamed loud enough that the sound echoed all the way up toward the balcony before abruptly cutting off.

Silence followed.

Kanade felt cold crawl through her veins. The deaths were starting now. Not distant anymore. They were real, visible-

Toya’s expression hardened slightly as he watched the courtyard below. “The imperial army brought execution units with them.”

“What?”

His jaw tightened faintly. “Officially they’re meant to punish deserters.”

Kanade already understood what execution units actually meant. Soldiers ensuring obedience through terror. Public punishment, fear disguised as discipline.

Mafuyu was surrounded by that.

The thought made panic rise violently through her chest again.

“She’s exhausted already,” Kanade whispered shakily. “If something happens and she hesitates—”

“She won’t.”

Toya’s gaze remained fixed on the battlefield horizon. “Mafuyu’s dangerous when people are depending on her.”

Kanade suddenly remembered watching Mafuyu during one of their first secret meetings months ago after a skirmish near the borderlands. Blood stained portions of her gloves back then too, yet she’d spent nearly an hour silently treating injured civilians before speaking a single word about herself.

Mafuyu fought like someone trying desperately to minimize suffering, even while drowning in it herself.

A bell rang sharply somewhere behind them inside the cathedral, not funeral bells this time. Summoning bells, which meant immediate deployment.

The atmosphere throughout the capital shifted almost instantly afterward. Soldiers flooded the lower streets faster now while cathedral officials hurried between military checkpoints carrying sealed orders.

Something had changed.

Toya noticed too.

“That’s not good.”

Kanade’s stomach twisted. “What happened?”

Before he could answer, rapid footsteps approached the balcony from behind.

Akito again, this time visibly pale.

“Kanade.” His breathing sounded uneven from rushing through the cathedral corridors. “They need everyone in the war chamber immediately.”

Fear tightened sharply through her chest. “Why?”

“The Empire crossed deeper into Aster than expected.” He hesitated briefly before continuing lower. “And one of the evacuation villages was burned before civilians could fully escape.”

No.

No no no—

“How many deaths?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Toya’s expression darkened immediately beside her. “Which village?”

“Eidolon.”

Toya went still.

“What?”

His voice lowered almost to a whisper. “Mafuyu’s battalion was deployed near Eidolon.”

Kanade stared at him while cold panic flooded every part of her body at once.

Akito looked between them sharply now, understanding dawning too late across his rigid expression. “Wait.”

Kanade could barely hear him anymore. “She wouldn’t let civilians die if she could stop it,” she whispered desperately, more to herself than anyone else.

Toya looked deeply troubled. “That’s exactly what worries me.”

Because defying orders during wartime got soldiers executed, especially inside the Empire.

Akito swore quietly beneath his breath before stepping closer. “Kanade, listen to me carefully.” His voice sharpened with urgency. “Whatever happens on that battlefield now, you cannot react publicly. Do you understand?”

She looked at him numbly.

“If the commanders notice you panicking over imperial casualties—”

“She’s not just an imperial casualty!” The words tore out of Kanade instantly, raw enough that even nearby soldiers glanced briefly toward the balcony before hurrying onward again.

Silence crashed heavily afterward.

Akito’s face softened almost painfully, that terrified Kanade more than anger would have. It meant he already understood the possibility she was refusing to think aloud.

That Mafuyu might already be dead.

Kanade couldn’t breathe.

The possibility hit so suddenly and violently that her knees nearly gave out beneath her.

Dead.

The word echoed endlessly through her skull now, horrific and unreal and impossible to escape from once it existed. Smoke still climbed across the eastern horizon beyond the capital while cathedral bells screamed through the city below, and suddenly every sound around her felt unbearably distant.

Mafuyu might already be dead.

No.

No.

Kanade physically shook her head once before stepping backward away from them.

“She’s alive.” The statement came immediately desperate.

Akito’s expression tightened.

Toya looked away.

That hurt worse than either of them speaking.

“She’s alive,” Kanade repeated again, quieter now, like saying it enough times could somehow force reality to obey.

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

Mafuyu promised.

If I survive this… I’ll come back to you.

Mafuyu wouldn’t lie about something like that.

Would she?