❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 ❞
Romeo and Juliet. But half the love, double the murder, and make it In...
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━━━━━━━┓ °• ✿ •° ┏━━━━━━━
Before Saki even awakens, she knows something is wrong.
Because instead of her being thrown from her futon, half-asleep and groggy, by a handful of Ayato's maids, she rises from the afternoon light glaring down at her through the window. In fact, Ayato was nowhere to be found. Was he truly so frustrated from yesterday that he didn't bother to meet her? Or, has he realized the mistake he made in trusting such a volatile woman as his double agent, and already ran out of use for her?
But before those thoughts could spiral any further, Saki notices a slip of paper fluttering atop her nightstand. The scent of sandalwood and fresh rain cling to the black ink, and she instantly recognizes the penmanship, rushed and yet no less regal with its thin, slanted cursive:
Unexpected business summoned me early this morning, my apologies.
The servants should have provided your outfit for today on your futon, take the backroads to the address provided. A few of my sister's allies— Resistance members— will be expecting you promptly.
Irreversibly Yours,
K. A.
Saki furrows her eyebrows as she dresses, still reading and re-reading the note as if staring at it any harder will reveal a hidden message. Was he still annoyed? Probably. Was she still deemed useful? Probably.
Regardless, it was all the convincing Saki needed to finish fastening the last of her hair pins, feeling the comforting weight of the metal ornaments balance the weight of the blade attached to her hips. After weeks of lessons with Thoma, she was finally permitted to leave the estate with a real sword, even if it did take forever for her to grasp the delicate nature of the weapon. It was for the better.
After all, you can't behead someone without it.
The kimono provided for her today was more on the simple side, the hues of purple and thundercloud gray suitable to blend in with the Inazuma City locals as she walked along busy streets to the coordinates provided in the letter. The only real indicator of her loyalties lay in the silver-stitched Tsubaki flowers cascading across the billowing lilac sleeves and the crest of the Kamisato Clan hidden in the inner folds of her collar. Not that the simplicity of the silks made her any less noticeable with her ribbons of flowing black hair— now undeniably white at the roots with the dye fading— and striking features that even without any makeup.
One look would instantly give away her origins in the red light district of Yoshiwara.
When Saki reaches the abandoned warehouse on the docks of Ritou, she is equally surprised and suspicious. No one had followed her. In fact, there was no one in sight. The bustle of the main ports sounded far off, covered by the crash of the waves against the rotting piers below her and by the slow groan of wood and metal from the warehouse. Still, she isn't given much time to debate the possibility of an ambush or assassin when the harsh early-winter winds push against her, forcing her inside the building as darkness closes in.
