The cane struck the paving stones with a dull "thud, thud," a rhythm so slow it set the nerves on edge.
It was an old man—so old it was almost frightening. His skin was a dark, ashen brown, like the bark of a thousand-year-old tree, carved with deep, fissured wrinkles. It clung tight to his jagged bones, with hardly a trace of flesh beneath.
He was bowed so deeply his whole body seemed folded in on itself, as if crushed by an invisible weight. He wore an old, dingy kimono whose wide sleeves hung limp and empty.
Most unsettling were his eyes—sunken beneath the brow, the sockets a murky yellow-brown in which iris and sclera nearly melted together. Yet in that murk flickered a cold, slick, greedy gleam, like a viper lurking in a swamp.
This was the current head of the Matou family, a demonic relic of magecraft who had lived for who knew how long—Matou Zouken.
…
Mornings at the Tohsaka house were usually quiet and orderly. The estate woke in the first light; dew beaded on the garden's leaves, and the air held a faint mix of sandalwood and fresh greenery.
Tohsaka Rin woke from a restless sleep. Worried about her sister Sakura, she had tossed and turned until very late, her dreams a jumble of unsettling images.
Instinctively she rolled over, reaching for the comfort of her sister's sleeping face on the neighboring bed. Ever since Sakura was old enough to understand things, the two of them had often slept in the same room.
Her hand met only cool, empty sheets.
Rin's heart dropped; she snapped fully awake. Sakura's bedding was neatly folded, the pillow smooth—no sign anyone had slept there.
A cold foreboding wrapped her heart like a snake.
"Where's Sakura?!"
She sprang from bed, barefoot, and ran out into the corridor, heart pounding a terrified drumbeat. Turning toward the kitchen, she saw her mother, Tohsaka Aoi.
Aoi—like a figure stepped out of a classical painting—wore a simple pale-green dress and moved with calm, refined grace.
She was the very image of a yamato nadeshiko: gentle and resilient, like a quiet lake. Rin had inherited her mother's striking looks; Sakura had taken more of her mother's soft, serene manner.
Aoi came from the Zenjou family. Her forebears had produced magi, though by her generation they were ordinary people, long separated from magecraft.
Even so, thin traces of magical blood still ran in her veins—precisely what had drawn Tohsaka Tokiomi to propose. After marriage she bore two daughters with remarkable aptitude for magecraft: Rin and Sakura.
Now Aoi stood with her back to Rin, quietly preparing breakfast. Her movements were as elegant as ever, yet Rin sensed something thinner than usual about her mother's silhouette—a desolate undertone she couldn't name.
"Mom!" Rin called from the doorway, her voice gone sharp with panic. "Where's Sakura? Have you seen her? Her bed's empty!"
Aoi's hands stilled for the briefest instant. She turned, forcing a gentle smile that looked like a brittle mask—bitter and strained. Her gaze wavered.
"Rin… you're up?"
Her voice was soft as always, but with a faint, betraying tremor. "Sakura… your father took her out."
"Took her out?" Rin's heart plunged. The bad feeling hardened into ice. "Dad took Sakura out? Where?!"
She rushed forward and grabbed her mother's arm. "Mom! Is Dad sending Sakura away? To the Matou family? Is he?!"
Aoi flinched under her daughter's burning, desperate stare. She turned her face slightly, dodging those sharp eyes, and said in a low, strained voice, "Rin… Sakura will go to the Matou house, where she'll have a better life and education. It's a prestigious lineage of magecraft. You don't have to worry…"
It sounded less like she was comforting Rin and more like she was trying to convince herself. Her fingers twisted the edge of her apron until her knuckles went white.
"A better life?" Rin almost screamed. "Mom, do you know what that Matou family is like? What kind of person Matou Zouken is?! That place is a pit—hell itself! Sakura will suffer there! We have to stop Dad—right now!"
She tugged hard at her mother's arm to pull her along, sure Aoi had been misled and would side with her once she knew the truth.
But Aoi didn't move, as if rooted to the floor. She lifted her head to look at her frantic daughter, eyes full of pain and a bottomless helplessness—the numbness of someone bound completely by tradition, a husband's will, and the "logic of magi."
"Rin… listen," Aoi said, on the verge of tears, her voice exhausted. "This is—this is your father's decision. It's for Sakura's good, and for the Tohsaka family. We… we can't…"
"Mom… you…" Rin stared at her mother's troubled, compromising gaze and understood at once.
So… you knew from the start.
You knew Father would send Sakura away. You knew everything. And you chose silence. You chose to obey.
A chill even sharper than the one she'd felt on learning Sakura was being sent away swept through Rin. She let go of her mother's arm and stumbled back a step, fixing Aoi with a look that mixed shock, disappointment, and utter heartbreak—a look like a knife, plunging into a heart already riddled with wounds.
~~~
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