saudade; raiden ei

xxxᴠɪɪ. mission

Y/n L/n tucked her hair behind her ear, soft strands obscuring her view as they mounted a light breeze. In her palms was clutched a basket; she wandered Inazuma City alone, eyes darting from store to store with a clear purpose in mind. Looking down, she searched the familiar piece of parchment accompanying her.

'Hm. Does that say... milk?' Y/n squinted at the blot of ink—a product of her evening disturbance. 'I'm sure we had milk... Did we have milk? Ayame would probably know. Ugh, I should've asked her.' 

After a moment's deliberation, she forced the milk into her basket.

"Y/n...?"

The soldier froze in the process of retreating to Tenshukaku. She could feel her heart thud loudly in her chest; it rose up to her throat. Surely... she was unrecognisable. Right? She shifted her guise slightly as if to confirm it was still intact—which it was.

Slowly, she reversed her motions until the face of an unfamiliar young man fully clouded her vision. He had choppy brown hair and uncommonly tanned skin; his voice was thick with a distant accent. Y/n was certain she had never seen him before; she was also certain that he must've been of foreign origin. Until the recent abolishment of the Sakoku Decree, she had never come across someone of his appearance before.

"Ah, it is you! Y/n! You're the famed soldier of Inazuma's Kamisato Clan, right?"

"I... uhm... serve the Raiden Shogun, but... yes?" She blinked. Y/n's mind had yet to wholly process the words 'famed' or 'Kamisato'; she was too focused on the fact that someone- more specifically, someone she had no prior interaction with- could see through her once effective cover so effortlessly. Although, as she'd come to later realise, 'Kamisato' did indeed stir a deep sensation of familiarity within her.

"Even better! That must mean you're as capable as they say. N- not that I don't believe them! Y/n- uh- m- ma'am. I've just... travelled so far to see you! All the way from Natlan. May I ask you for your help with something?"

The soldier raised a brow, "that depends. What is it?"

After further discussion and relocation to a more secluded location, Y/n had grasped a general understanding of the situation at hand. The nation was laden with frequent tournaments—battles that raged between the strongest of warriors and bravest of challengers, all for the amusement of the Archon and her audience. Murata was beyond capable of a leader; she governed in a way that was fair and just. Yet, she had a tyrannical thirst for war. A thirst quenchable only by the violent spilling of blood, all with the hopeful glimmer that they may secure her grand prize.

Unexpectedly, the great majority of the nation shared her love for this sport. The higher the risk the louder the cheers; death itself- although infrequent- was not off the cards. The youth's name was Luca; though people seldom dared venture beyond the borders of Natlan, he had received word of Y/n's achievements and immediately set sail to Inazuma in hopes of garnering her support. His friend, it appeared, bore a strong distaste for these skirmishes and foolishly entered himself into the tournament in a moment of weakness. He desired the opportunity to finally put an end to these conflicts—an opportunity only presented to those in possession of the Archon's reward.

However, there was one problem: he simply wasn't strong enough.

There was no chance that Carlos- Luca's friend- could win. He was nothing but a frail and temperamental young man with great ambition; each and every one of his opponents would be bigger, faster, stronger than he was. In four days, the tournament would begin. In four days his life could end.

Y/n's mission would be to infiltrate the nation of Natlan and to save the young man. She'd be forced to train him into a somewhat competent warrior within five nights and four days—something she herself was uncertain that she was capable of. Yet, one look at Luca's face had her teetering with doubt. She felt guilty—guilty that he would have travelled so far to reach out to her only to be shunned and turned away.