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Chapter Text

“Go out with me.”

With how nonchalant the way those four words left Miko’s mouth, Sara swore she was hearing things. Her hands froze mid-motion, the cloth wrapped around the bloodstained katana immediately forgotten. The raven-haired Tengu snaps her head towards the unpredictable fox predictably bringing chaos with her. “Pardon?”

“Why, fox got your tongue?” the pink-haired, fluffy Kitsune drawls, voice low and sultry, evidently teasing. She saunters up to Sara who sitting on the stone bench and, with a manicured finger, gently pushed the blade aside. “Go out with me, little bird.”

 Sara’s face scrunched up with confusion. “Go where?” She refused to believe Miko meant otherwise.

Yae Miko, despite her unmatched skills in astrology, did not foresee this reply. She breaks out into a hearty chuckle. “Oh, little bird,” she starts, wiping her pink eyelashes dewy with tears, “you’re simply irresistible like this, you know?”

Sara tilts her head in further confusion and added suspicion. A blush was beginning to form on her cheeks at the “compliment”. Please don’t let Miko mean otherwise.

How adorable, Miko thinks. She had mean exactly otherwise. “Why, anywhere and everywhere, of course! I’m asking you to be my girlfriend, silly, so that you’ll be able to get your beloved Lady’s attention.”

The little bird gives Miko an incredulous look, mouth agape. She can feel her face fully heating up with a flush, and her wings expanded at the suggested notion. “And why would I want to get her attention?”

Now, this is more of the outcome she foresaw. Those narrowed, golden eyes. The wrinkles creasing her forehead. And those, those deliciously flaming cheeks. A squawking little bird. A smirk adorns Miko’s face as she placed a hand daintily on Sara’s left shoulder, charmingly getting into her inner space as she whispers hotly into the samurai’s ears.

“What I’m saying is… I will spring you away, and our little escapade will capture those magnificent eyes of Ei. You’ve always been by her side ever since we left Hingashi. Yes, I get that you are going to retort, ‘but that’s my job as a bodyguard!?’, psh, we both know Ei can take care of herself, it’s mostly Makoto you’re protecting together with Ei.”

Sara frowns at Miko shutting her up before she could really retort. Her wings flutter behind her in displeasure.

“Now, little bird. What do you suppose would happen if… You were to fly away from her? From Ei? When the chick leaves the nest? What then, would happen to our dearest blockhead?” Miko continues her drabble, twirling a lock of Sara’s hair playfully.

Numerous scenarios run through Sara’s head, none of them positive. “I-I don’t…” she stutters, visibly bothered by the Kitsune’s close proximity. She smelled sweet. Intoxicating. Like strong alcohol that robbed her of her sobriety in one shot. She wished she could swat her away, but her hands, now that she remembers, is painfully occupied by her sword. Instead, Sara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and composed herself best as she could. “My apologies, Lady Yae, but I don’t see why I have to go through with that plan of yours.”

“Ah, ever so cold and rejecting,” Miko took a step back and retracted her hands, this time placing it over her own heart to feign hurt. “All I wanted was your happiness…”

“How is that for my happiness?” Sara finally retorts, ignoring Miko’s antics. She refocuses onto the calming action of cleaning her blade, silently grateful for the increased distance between them. It was as if Miko knew her boundaries and respected it whenever she was about to cross them. How annoyingly perceptive. Was she spending too much time with Lady Makoto lately?

“Once she notices you drifting away, she’ll try to get you back. It works in your favour, does it not? Hmm, little bird?” the Kitsune’s voice regains its playful nature again, getting over the “hurt” in a matter of seconds, earning an eyeroll from Sara.

 “That’s not…” Sara begins, but is interrupted.

“That’s what you actually want instead, don’t you, Miko?” Lumine enters the yard with a raised eyebrow. She was carrying Paimon on her shoulders like the little popoto she is, who was nodding alongside Lumine’s statement. A “travelling arrangement” the Lalafell likes, Lumine explained when asked.

A gasp leaves Miko’s lips as she turns to appraise her newly arrived friends. “How could you possibly imply that?”

“I can see through your acting,” the Hyur deadpans, setting Paimon on the stone table before moving to sit beside Sara. Her lance was slung behind her, and she was half dressed down after combat, no injuries in sight. A successful request done, Sara notes. Those poachers camping around Tailfeather village stood no chance against the reowned Warrior of Light and her favoured companion.

Paimon places her staff down on the table and snickers at Miko’s defeat at the hands of Lumine. The white-haired Black Mage was getting too comfy.

Miko tuts at Lumine’s lack of enthusiasm for her theatrics. “Tsk tsk, no fun. Well, Makoto has been most kind to me. I believe, even without having to resort to this,” she waves her hand pointedly in front of her, earning another eyeroll from Sara, “I will succeed. I am merely extending a helping hand to our helpless little bird who seems to have troubles taking the next step.”

Said helpless little bird couldn’t help but groan. The urge to puff out her feathers further was strong, the little downs in her hair already rising.  “I don’t need your help in pursuing Lady Ei. In fact, I’m not going to pursue her at all. Cease your antics now before you cause trouble for Lady Makoto as well.”

 “Oh, Sara,” Lumine smiles softly at the two lovesick idiots. “Miko is pursuing Makoto, and she can’t be the only one embarrassing herself in the pursuit of love. She’s egging you on to chase Ei as well. While I’m not sure how the whole fake relationship thing is going to go, I do think the two of you can work together to woo the Raiden sisters.”

‘Yeah! Two heads are better than one!” Paimon adds in, raising a fist in cheer.

The little bird does not answer.

So, the sly fox answers for her. “Lumine’s delusions aside, with the esteemed matchmaker, yours truly helping you, what’s there to worry about?”

Oh, everything, Sara thinks, her stomach churning.

Inside the house, both Raiden twins sneeze at the same time. Ei rubs her nose with a finger and pulls the thick blanket up snugly for Makoto She finishes with two affectionate pats to Makoto’s clavicle. “Are you warm, sister?”

Makoto nods, smiling warmly, putting the fireplace to shame. “Thank you for taking care of me, Ei, but as I’ve mentioned, you don’t have to babysit me the entire time. Why not go out for a stroll? I think Lumine and the rest are back. I’ll be okay with them here.”

Ei pouts. “So keen to get rid of me?”

The currently bedridden Makoto giggled softly. “As much as I would love to snuggle with you, I’d rather it not be under unfortunate circumstances.”

She slips a hand out of her comfy covers to lay it on top of Ei’s. “You need rest too. I know you’ve been worrying yourself sick ever since I got injured. Take care of yourself as well?” She pleads gently.

“I can never win you in an argument, can I?” Ei sighs defeatedly, “You and your way with words… Alright, I’ll go check if they’re back. Holler if you need anything!” With that, the younger twin gets up from her plush seat to check the front yard. 

The elder twin grins, having already sensed that their party has returned. Her Echo had always kept her updated uncannily. The grin however, falls as soon as the last visage of purple disappears behind a door. She mutters to herself. “Sorry to have kept you from going with them… and I hope you can realise it’s not your fault I became like this.”

Makoto turns her head back straight at the ceiling. Her eyes flutter close, memories of their trip from Hingashi up until Eorzea replaying through her mind. The way her family regarded her as “blessed” due to her mystical foresight and fawned all over her when in truth, it was simply the Echo doing its own magic. Something she possessed that Ei did not. And for that, Ei paid the price. She was disregarded by the Raiden family— it’s still a wonder how she managed to retain their family name. The Clan head going along with Makoto’s whims to keep the prized flower happy and blooming, she supposes. Though she would sooner strip herself of the name, Ei actually wanted it; to be recognised as Makoto’s family. Though she would never need a name to display their kinship, Ei needed it; to be reminded that family exists .

Balled fists form under the covers. Ei was treated as if she never existed, always living in Makoto’s shadow despite the latter’s attempts to bring the former out into the light. She tried, oh how much she tried to share the love she was lavished with, the care, the attention, she gave hers to Ei twicefold for how much she received.

“I-It’s fine… as long as I’m with you!” a small, shy and timid Ei clutched onto the expensive kimono sleeves of a similarly youthful Makoto, children whose kazoedoshi barely just filled a single hand past Setsubun.

It relieved Makoto to learn about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn through her Clan’s intricate network of intelligence gathered by shinobi who had finally reached the shores of Eorzea. That there were likeminded people using their gifts for the betterment of the world instead of selfish gains. But even if it wasn’t true that she genuinely wanted to learn more about her powers, she would still leave her homeland in lieu of any other believable lie. Just to take her beloved little sister, birthed into the world a mere few minutes later than her, away from the wretched hands of her Clan. Not family, but Clan. Her only bloodkin would be Ei. Only Ei and Makoto, Makoto and Ei. 

She heaves a sigh, as she feels the stinging pangs on her ribs. She had entered Thok ast Thok, the lair of the Gnath tribe, together with Lumine and Ysayle, seeing as how only they hold the Blessing of Light. Ysayle was an Elezen who could call upon the powers of Saint Shiva, holding the title as the Shrine Maiden of Ice, seeking to end the Dragonsong War between Ishgard and the Dravanian Horde. While she fought primarily on the side of the Dragons, Alphinaud, a Scion who escaped with Lumine to Ishgard, had managed to talk her over. That they were trekking their way to the Churning Mists, home of Hraesvelgr of the First Brood, to talk about peace.

The rest of the travelling party sans the three of those blessed by Light had begrudgingly agreed to wait at the entrance. Paimon most of all. The Lalafell had been a long travel companion of Lumine’s, and she hated it everytime they had to separate when Lumine had to face Primals alone. Just because she was immune to tempering. Thankfully, there were more people to help Lumine this time! Two! Two of them!

Makoto was sure her companions would risk their lives to fight side by side, shoulder to shoulder, but she herself could not bear the thought of any of them being tempered in the process. Not even those she had newly met prior to travelling with Lumine to Ishgard, such as Ysayle and Estinien, the Azure Dragoon fighting on the side of Ishgard. Makoto’s Hingan party managed to join up with the remaining Scions following the aftermath of the Bloody Banquet where Lumine was framed for the murder of the Sultana of Ul’dah, Nanamo Ul Namo. They sought passage together into Ishgard, where the Scions were moving to avoid prosecution from the Crystal Braves who betrayed the Scions, bought out by Teledji Adeledji, one of the Monetarists of Ul’dah. They had helped gain their share of trust for the entry of course, helping out around Camp Dragonhead where they first dwelled before their entry was approved. Lord Hauchefant the Silver Fuller was most kind to gift them a humble abode— “The Falling Snows”, he had called it, a little barren in acommodities, but filled with coziness alike one’s home, keeping the chills of harsh tidings outside.

Ysayle was a former opponent she faced together with Lumine. Even if she was a mortal, harnessing the powers of a Primal was still deadly. Tempering… Was an irreversible process, an ailment without cure. Protocol for the three city states was a death sentence to all that were tempered by any Primal. Lumine had once opened up about how the people who had fought with her in the battle against Ifrit, the manifestation of fire brought forth by the Amalj'aa tribe of bipedal lizardmen, were unfortunately executed when any sign of temperance was found. Ishgard, she assumed, was no exemption from this. The Holy See, would inevitably brand those who were tempered as evil as those who defected to the Dragons. They would call upon their goddess Halone the Fury to brandish just punishment to sinners without lifting a finger themselves, leaving the clean up to those in the lower levels of governance. It was easy to expect the one-minded Inquisition to act this way, for they had, over a thousand of years, kicked ‘heretics’ into Witchdrop. The sheer fall from the cliff was sure to kill any mortal without regard for the sins they committed in life. It was a death sentence through and through, with only the howling winds of Coerthas to answer any cries for mercy.

A chill shivered through her core as she recalled the effects of tempering from the scrolls she read. When a Beast Tribe calls upon their Deity, their God, their Primal, they expose everyone in the vicinity to the raw essence of the summoned Primal. When a living being’s aether gets corrupted, tainted, by the Pimal’s essence, they are forever enthralled to become mindless servants. A being with no will, forced to serve. A cruel fate for any free life. She could not, would not let her newfound family suffer such a fate. She will not allow it, if she can help it. It would be selfish of her to bar them from such fights, but ready as they are to lay their lives down for her, so is she. 

Hence when Ravana’s blade struck down upon her, it was all she could do to focus her magicks to sustain herself, her focus shifting from supporting Lumine to making sure she would not become her burden. Lumine’s eyes grew wide; ‘not again,’ she thinks, hands growing slack around her lance. She nearly drops it. Her mouth is agape but no scream, no sound comes out. Silence. It’s all lodged at the back of her throat. She can’t. She can’t lose another one again. Ysayle had already fallen after engaging in a battle between Primals, using the crystals the Gnath hoarded to summon the Lord of the Hive.

“Forward,” Makoto heaves, careful not to move the angry gash planted across her chest. Her lilac eyes pierce into Lumine’s golden pools.

The Warrior of Light whipped her head back to face the Gnath warrior. How silly of her to show her back towards the enemy for even a moment. She’s lucky Ravana’s four blades did not come for her in that split second. He would pay for looking down on the weak. She grits her teeth in concentration, eyes narrowing in determination. Tightening her grip around the shaft of her weapon, the muscles in her legs tense as she prepares for a leap. Ravana’s wings buzz in excitement as he senses Lumine’s bloodlust.

“Very well!” the insectoid’s deep voice boomed throughout the chasm, revelling at the prospect of a strong opponent in the form of the Dragoon before him.

Their blades clashed. In the end, Lumine would walk out with a feeble Makoto in her arms, patched up as best as they could with Makoto’s own shugendo and Lumine’s elemental pleas as a White Mage. Ysayle staggered behind them. Ei rushed over, anxious over her twin’s state. It was as if her heart had leapt out of her chest when she saw Makoto’s bloodied state. 

“MAKOTO!”

“Lady Ei!” Sara restrained Ei by holding her arms back, the latter nearly tearing her sister out of Lumine’s hold. The Tengu was not about to say helpless things like ‘calm down’ or anything of that sort. Those words would fall on deaf ears as the pacing Ei was already getting consumed by her own worry before their companions had even emerged from the hive nest. Instead, she held Ei’s hands to ensure they did not clench unto themselves, hurting herself with her own fingernails dug too deeply into her palms.

“Lady Ei,” Sara mumbles soothingly into Ei’s ears again, “trust our friends.”

Tears streaked down Ei’s face as she buried herself into Sara’s shoulder. It was somewhat bony, but it felt comfortable nonetheless. She wailed herself into oblivion, crumpling onto the muddy ground, clutching onto Sara who had kneeled down with her for support. The taller women held Ei tightly in a hug, closing her wings upon Ei in a cocoon. She didn’t know what to say; she was eloquent in debates, not matters of the heart. Those, she could not give voice to as easily as Makoto who could feel through people’s hearts. So Sara simply said nothing, using her very being to let Ei know that she’s here for her.

If only she could make things okay for her. But healing magicks were not her specialty. Between the two Yokai of the group, it was Miko’s.

Miko dropped all pretenses of being unworried when it was just the three of them at the entrance. She was promptly by Makoto, star globe whipped out immediately, channeling her aether into Makoto to further boost the healing salve the duo had churned out previously. Alphinaud followed suit with his Academician magicks, after Ysayle shook her head. Tend to her first, she had mouthed.

“How did this—” Miko bit her tongue to prevent herself from talking further. It was easy to say something wrong right now. She could see the glaze over Lumine’s eyes, no doubt seeing double . Of an incident she only heard from rumours, then from Lumine herself over the campfire mere days ago when they freshly arrived in Tailfeather village for the first time. The Bloody Banquet. She takes in a deep breath, focusing on her applications. Makoto comes first. She can talk to Lumine later. Her tails, four of which which she had usually kept hidden (it’s inconvenient otherwise!), were now out in the open with the illusion dispelled. 

But one of them finds a way around the shaken girl, curling around the Hyur’s waist in an attempt to mimic comfort. 

Paimon nestled herself by Lumine’s side. Estinien stood quietly behind the group.

That day would change all of them.

It was easier to cheer Lumine back up. After bundling Makoto up to ensure she wouldn’t freeze in the air, Sara carried her and flew back to the Fortemps manor, their current refuse in Ishgard, for rest and further treatment. No amount of magic would instantly make her better. Knowing Makoto would be taken care of and most importantly— not yet lost , fuelled Lumine. The Dragonsong War must end. And she still had her part to play. She gave Paimon a small, quick smile after they broke camp and continued towards the Churning Mists. Miko however, suggested they part ways.

“I’ll go back to Ishgard,” she announced that night. Paimon raised her eyebrows, mouth parted to ask, before Miko cut her off to add on, “Lumine and Alphinaud are both capable of healing. I… I wish to see the situation back at House Fortemps, see if I can help can anything.”

The Kitsune, ears downcast, briefly peeks at Ei’s blank stare. Poor girl was a soulless husk at this point. Giving the two healers a knowing look, she adds on. “I’ll have Ei accompany me. Why, surely you don’t expect me, a dainty lady, to go unescorted? How unbecoming!” She jests, part of her usual flair back in her voice. It brightened up everyone’s spirits. 

Ysayle broke into a chuckle. “Off you go then,” she waved her hand, showing Miko the way. She knew her way around these lands better than anyone in this group, after all.

Miko gives her a grateful nod before pushing Ei onto her feet, guiding her along. Ei followed wordlessly. When it had been days since Ei had last picked up her glaive and went out of the manor, The group was starting to get worried. Lumine’s party had successfully contacted Hraesvelgr. The results were… Not the brightest looking. Ysayle split ways after learning about the truth behind her powers. That the “Shiva” she had been assuming the form of, was but a mere delusion of the real Saint. Estinien had also split after the endeavor bore less fruit than intended. Lumine, Paimon, Alphinaud and Tataru, the last Scion of the group that fled north, took it upon themselves to continue the good work. Tataru had been gathering information in less snazzy areas of Ishgard, such as the taverns where lips were looser. Sara and Miko took it upon themselves to care for the Raiden twins. They were, their first companions when the four of them travelled from Hingashi to Eorzea.

Makoto had been paid immediate medical attention so she was not in any mortal danger. She was however, out of the fight for the time being. This was also the first time she had been injured without Ei’s protection. Her little sister had always followed her around, until the times where she started facing Primals in battle. 

“This must have been a great impact to her psyche…” Makoto mused as Sara changed her bandages. As Ei’s familiar, Miko was making sure her mistress ate at least something from her lunch.

“You mean the world to her, Lady Makoto.” Sara stated flatly.

Makoto shook her head. Here was another fledging who blamed herself. “Whatever will I do with you…?” She sighed. She was tired, and her head hurt. Her chest hurts.

“My apologies,” Sara bows her head, “have I done something to offend my Lady?”

“Raise your head, dear,” Makoto places her hands on either side of Sara’s cheeks, giving her the softest smile possible, “you did nothing wrong. We all have limits to the things we can do. That is not a sin in itself.”

A gasp leaves Sara’s parted lips, taken aback by Makoto’s tenderness. Her hands were so impossibly warm against her cool cheeks.

“Look outside,” Makoto suggests, guiding the Tengu’s head towards the window in a gentle motion. Snow was falling gently, frost creeping up on the panes. A winter wonderland, where none of the frigid chills reach. Not under Makoto’s watch.

“A snowflake is limited in the things it can do. But its brilliance shines still, for each individual flake has a pattern of its own. With the help of its environment, turning itself into water, it can achieve different things. Yet the light from the sun, or that of the moon, shines through nonetheless.”

“Lady Makoto, I don’t—”

“Do not lose yourself in the pursuit of a better you, Sara. Do not lose your radiance. May Light shine pleasantly with you.”

Chapter Text

Against rationale, Sara agreed to Miko’s plans. It was disheartening to see Ei lose spirit, and Miko somehow knew how to raise it these days. In Lumine and Paimon’s absence, it was really just the two of them playing caretaker. Sure, they could ask the servants of House Fortemps for help, but they did not wish so. How could they leave the Raiden twins behind in their hour of need?

Sara would find herself awake at the wee hours of the morning, the yard still dusted white. She had always risen early, together with the sun itself back in Hingashi. Now that she was more westward, the sky was still inky black. Her morning routine started in the courtyard of the Fortemps manor, where she would let her wings out, expanding to their full wingspan to stretch them, flapping here and there gently, careful to not kick up a draft. She would then fold her wings and hide them with a simple illusion using prism magic before heading towards the lower levels of Ishgard. As pretty as the Pillars were, the district of the highborn, she dared not roam too far from the vicinity of the manor, from the protection House Fortemps provided. It would be problematic if she earned the ire of a snob in passing. Anything, and literally quite anything, could set an arrogant noble off. Even your own existence, as Sara had learned from her family.

She had to admit, she was impressed with the way Lumine got acquainted with one of the founding families of Ishgard. She knew of Lord Hauchefant’s fondness for the Warrior of Light, but she hadn’t realised the extent of their familiarity. They were already on good terms before the Banquet incident that forced Lumine to seek refuge. She must have done something exemplary to earn his favour, like how they earned their passage into the city by valiantly defending the Steps of Faith from a Horde attack. It was a massive stone bridge that provided the sole means of entry into Ishgard. Arcane wards that form a sturdy barrier around the city rest on this very bridge, denying the Dravanian Horde from launching a direct aerial assault. The most recent attack was only partially successful because it had started on foot (or claw?) from the Gates of Judgement itself, the very beginning of the Steps.

Down at the Foundation, the streets were empty save for a few guards stationed at their posts and drunkards cursing their luck. Gravel and snow crunched under her boots. Ever the same sights lately, with how dreary a city waging war was. The spark of life in the Forgotten Knight, tavern and inn of the city, would only roar from evenings onwards. The stone city with towering, sharp spires snowed eternally ever since the Seventh Umbral Calamity, blanketing grey bricks a contrasting white, painting a monochrome scene. Gone were the lush green plains and shepherds rearing their sheep. All that stands now is everlasting emptiness.

Nothing much to see.

Hence one track round was enough.

Returning to the safety of the courtyard, she would once again let out her wings. It felt more natural that way, and there was nobody from the Kujou Clan to reprimand her anymore. No, she no longer had to be shamed for her rare Yokai heritage. Not when they could not exert their influence over her anymore, now that she was independent and under the hire of the Raiden twins.

Picking up the bow she’d left behind, she’d begin training on a target dummy. Five sets of archery practice, even though she’s been favouring the sword instead of the bow lately. Arrows offered less help against a Dragon’s thick scale and hide compared to Miko or Paimon’s spells. She had to seek and litter weak spots with a rain. Comparing that to a simple flick of one’s hand? Time consuming. Her lightning-infused arrows were able to find their mark easier, but against similarly aspected Draconids? It was as ineffective as paper blocking a raging tornado. Hence she turned to her sword, something she trained in the moment she was capable of walking. She could at least keep her friends safe at a distance if she engaged in melee combat.

The feeling of a taut bowstring on her fingertips never fails to make her smile. Every samurai was required to learn the way of the sword, but the bow was something extra. Something personal for her. Her smile did not wear off even when she heard her girlfriend (the concept was still new and weird to her, calling Miko that) stride into the yard with a yawn.

“Honestly, you’re always up so early. What would convince you to share the bed with me and keep me warm in the morning?” Miko asked while she stretched.

“When you stop teasing me,” Sara replies, straightening her face. She puts her bow down to take her coat off, then swings it over the sleepyhead. Such small displays of affection came easier to her than louder ones. Or verbal ones. She hasn’t quite grasped how Miko could make raunchy suggestions nonchalantly.

“Won’t you get cold, my love?” Miko smirks, trying her best to hide her surprise. Sara’s reply went unregistered as Miko processed the bodyguard’s actions. She knew Sara was devoted to the people she served, but the Kitsune was not one of them. Directly, anyway. Not until now. The redness forming on her nose was definitely because of the cold and not the warming of her cheeks, she convinced herself.

Sara huffs as she finishes bundling her “love” up. She hadn’t realised Miko’s shock. And the blush on her face was simply from the cold, was it not? “No. I was trained to get used to the cold from a young age,” Sara simplifies her step-father’s beatings with a grimace. She was told that if she was of real Tengu blood, she should be able to withstand the frigid winds of flights at high elevations.

“You on the other hand, my Lady," Sara took a step back to examine her handiwork once she finished adjusting the coat, "look like you’re about to freeze otherwise.”

The pink-haired Astrologian makes a mental note to curse the Kujou Clan head later. “As if you’ll allow me to!” she laughs heartily, tugging at the black coat swathing her. The colour did not suit her. The size did not suit her. Yet she decides, unable to deny the warmth blooming within her, that it is where it should be. It is where it belongs.

The statement earns a rare chuckle from Sara. She surmises that this new addition to her routine was not unwelcome after all. Miko interrupting her from time to time like a force of chaos, appearing whenever she pleased was just so… Very Miko of her. She is a stickler for routines because it grounds her, planting her two feet firmly onto the floor whenever she feels like the world moves too fast for her, whenever her wings take her too high. Whenever she mentally flinches from overstepping the strict code of conduct her step-father Takayuki forced upon her psyche since she was a babe. But Miko? Miko lets her feel free, free from chains, from labels and tags, as if she was meant to be a bird soaring through the sky all along.

And as the Tengu’s prior gesture managed to earn Miko’s surprise, the chuckle paved way for much more. Imagination is a crucial tool for an author to be! An image of a small, young fledging Sara whose height matched Miko at the knees playing in the snow without a care in the world flashes across the latter’s mind. She makes another mental note to add playing in the snow as an activity they ought to do sometime in the future. Both Ei and Sara could make up for lost time together, she muses.

“You seem to be in very good spirits, Sara,” Miko comments, unable to help a grin of her own.

“And whose fault is that?” Sara complains sarcastically, folding her arms while raising a brow in mock question.

“Fault? How accusatory! Shouldn’t it be a blessing instead?” Miko huffs, looking away with her eyes closed, going along with the banter.

“I don’t receive blessings,” Sara deadpans as a matter of fact.

“Wha-”

“They don’t apply to me.”

Miko opens her eyes to take a good look at Sara’s expression. “You’re not joking.”

“Why would I joke about that?” The raise of the brow this time is genuine.

Miko purses her lips at the dumbfoundedness of the face in front of her. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a Tengu?” Sara’s confusion was becoming even more apparent.

“And… Why is that?” Miko presses on further, determined to find out the root of this accursed logic.

“Because… I’m a sign of ill omen…?”

“Then all the more you should receive more good tidings???”

“Wouldn’t that be contradictory…?”

Oh, by the Kami. Miko puts a hand to her head, feeling a headache settling in.

To the Hingans, children were viewed as auspicious blessings from the Heavens themselves. Being granted the opportunity to give the breath of life unto another, was a privilege of divine will. For no man shall play God over life itself. Nay, to be above the Kami, is a dire sin of severe pride.

However, exceptions can be made, for not all children bring good tidings. Whereupon one lays eyes on those silky, jet-black feathers, one can only think of harbingers of ill omens. Crows and ravens. Her wings are a stark reminder of her uncommon heritage amongst the masses, something she cannot escape even if she were to hide her features. Her natural hair colour only served to damn her image further, causing people to shun her growing up. But while people saw a monstrosity, Takayuki saw potential instead. Yokai were sturdier than mere mortals. Meaning, they were perfect vassals. Imagine! Undying loyalty and sworn fealty from a being of immense lifespan, whose ferocity will know no bounds for the sake of your name!

Hence, when he saw a bundle of sooty feathers partially covered by snowfall, pooling in crimson red, he grinned devilishly. The Heavens themselves saw him fit for might. And he shall not squander this opportunity to conquer. There was only one problem. He wasn’t a Yokai himself. How was a simple Hyur to know how to care for a Tengu? Yokai were few and between mortals, mostly heard of in legends and myths alike, meaning it was extremely hard to find someone for advice regarding so, evem amongst the surviving Onmyouji families. With the decline of Yokai appearance, so did the future generations seek out different trades. What else was he to do, other than take matters into his own hands?

“Listen, Sara.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Heed not the words of gossip on the streets. You are above that. You are a Yokai, and you cannot be blessed, for you are born strong. Tell me, child. Do the strong need for such divine guidance? Are they truly strong otherwise?”

“No, Father.”

“Indeed, we will pave our way with our flesh and blood instead! Should word on the streets even be remotely true, then remember this. Should any dark tidings befall them, then it is because they did not cast their lot with you, but against you. For you are a force to be reckoned with. You are the messenger, the Kami the executioner.”

“Of course, Father!

Things were a bit more different for Miko, who was practically born to the Raiden Clan as their vassal. Yokai were treated with utmost respect, as higher beings closer to the Kamis. Who then, better to serve the descendants of Raiden, supposed offspring of the Lightning God? Each and every child of Raiden held strong affinity for the lightning aspect, gaining mastery over such magicks from a young age, boosting the saying further. To be in direct service of a supposed God, is no greater honour for Yokai affiliated with the Raiden Clan. On paper anyway, as Miko blatantly flouts traditions, finding loopholes here and there wherever she could with that sly, foxy intellect. Such “transgressions” of course, were written off by Raiden Makoto, spoiling Miko further, much to the chagrins of the Elders. Even they would be hard-pressed to find themselves on the other end of the table debating with a favoured child of the Kamis.

The Raiden Clan also enjoyed fruitful relationships with Omnyoujis in recruiting and interacting with Yokai. Suffice it is to say, despite certain hostilities here and there from grumpy old men and dreadfully boring duties as a shrine maiden, Miko enjoyed a decent childhood, corresponding with the Raiden twins through letters. The children of the Kamis were mostly hidden from the world when young, fearful of assassination attempts from jealous parties. Even from the Yokai who will eventually serve them. The Kitsune only got to know her benefactor face to face after Makoto came of age to become the next Clan Head on the cusp of eighteen summers.

Which is why, this disparity in upbringing is abysmal.

“We need to talk,” Miko states flatly after massaging her temples, “with the rest.”

“Okay…?” Sara agrees, still not understanding the issue at hand. Her ignorance makes her stomach churn, wings ruffling unconsciously with unease. Miko had always broken her composure so easily.

The urge to take a flight to clear her head was strong. However, to fly high amidst the skylines of a city besieged by a thousand-year war was akin to a death wish. She could never soar freely in this city— it was easy, way too easy to be mistaken as a heretic who drank the blood of a Draconid, usually an Aevis. Her wings were far different from that of a Dragon, but what is a feather and a scale at a distance? When people live in fear, it is easy to guess. Treat any unknown as hostile. It's sad, this city of grey. Bricks lay strewn about in Foundation, no stonemason afforded the job to repair the city. Where the Brume lay dirty and overcrowded with orphans, the drunk, or the poor. Where handmaidens, after producing offspring usually of half Elezen and Hyur descend, sleep at, abandoned by the High House families they used to work for. Ill omens, all of them. Not brought by her, but here she was nonetheless.

As if sensing the Tengu’s mood, the Kitsune moves forward to brush her hands through her feathers, taking Sara’s attention with her. She took such good care of them, she noted, feeling the downs betwixt her fingers. Soft and warm to the touch. “Shall I preen your feathers for you?” she offers earnestly.

Sara shakes her head. “I have not completed my morning exercise,” she explains, placing a hand on the hilt of the katana that rested on her hip. Which, she had nearly forgotten much to her shame after Miko barged into the yard.

“As you wish,” Miko replies, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand, burying the unease formed from the tense conversation mere moments ago under a cheerful jest. “More sleep for me!” 

She tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on Sara’s cheeks. “Stay warm, love,” the Kitsune announces, sashaying her way back to the manor.

Sara stares dumbly at the disappearing fluff of pink engulfed in her black coat, a hand placed over her cheek where Miko’s lips last were. Heat slowly rushed up to her face as she processed what just happened. That darned fox! Sara grumbles under her breath as she hides her face in her hands. It was a kiss. A kiss. On her cheek, yes, but it was still a first for her! Yet she could not deny the giggly, bubbling feeling rising in her chest. A helpless smile spread across her face, Oh, what in the Seven Hells. Everything she had been thinking of up until now went poof like a popped bubble released into the sky. She was sure her focus on her swordsmanship would be a problem now. She lets out a breathy sigh, eyes closed as hands curl around the familiar, uneven handle of her katana, the extension of her soul. She will regain control over her heartbeat or die trying. Else her pride as a swordsman will die together. How utterly vexing.

Miko licked her lips in delight as she headed towards the quarters of the Raiden sisters, savouring the softness she tasted. Now that would keep Sara distracted for a while. And who knew the Tengu had such supple cheeks? She felt smug as if she was the keeper of forbidden knowledge. Unbeknownst to her, Makoto already knew, for she squeezed them from time to time in private. A fact Miko would come to begrudge with a pout.