The dawn crept slowly across the Maho estate, silver light spilling through gauzy curtains as if reluctant to disturb the silence. Outside, a sharp autumn wind stirred the high branches and rustled the fallen leaves across the gravel paths. The chill slipped easily into the chambers of the manor, brushing over Utsuki's skin and waking her from dreams too fragile to recall.
She pushed herself upright, the blankets sliding away, and for a moment sat still, gazing at the faint frost that clung to the corners of the window. It was a beautiful morning—clear, crisp, and calm. Too calm. She had lived within this silence for weeks now, and already it weighed on her chest like stone. Her thoughts betrayed her, as they always did, returning to the same figure she could not seem to escape.
Toki.
Her lips pressed together. In her mind, she imagined him outside, training as the sun rose—his body battered but unyielding, every movement sharp, purposeful. She could almost hear the echo of his breath, the rhythm of his fists striking wood, the steady cadence of his steps on the soil. She closed her eyes, but the vision refused to fade.
With a restless sigh, she slipped from bed. The mirror greeted her with the pale reflection of silver hair falling loose about her shoulders. She reached for her brush, drawing the teeth slowly through each strand, careful, deliberate, as though taming her thoughts along with her hair. When at last she had woven it into order, she reached for her dress—a soft lace gown of rose-pink, delicate against her skin. As she fastened it, she froze.
That dress. Her reflection in the mirror revealed not just fabric and thread, but memory. She had worn it the night Toki and Tora had accompanied her to the theatre. A simple evening, and yet… her hands flew to her head, clutching her temples as if she could physically shake the thought away.
"Why," she whispered to the empty room, "does everything lead me back to him?"
No answer came. Only silence.
Gathering herself, she turned from the mirror and began her morning walk through the manor. The library lay still and hollow when she pushed its doors open, its shelves bathed in dust-speckled sunlight. Empty. Of course. Tora had gone to train with Toki, after all. The sight of the vacant chairs and unturned pages left her lonelier than she cared to admit. She lingered for a moment, running her fingers across the spines of forgotten books, before moving on.
The scent of warm bread drew her toward the kitchen. There she found Yuki, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied back as she moved with brisk precision among the pots and pans. The sound of chopping and the hiss of frying filled the air. No Kandaki lingered at her side today; he too was away with Toki.
Yuki noticed her immediately, arching a brow as she caught the absent look in Utsuki's eyes. The maid's tone was sharp, edged with her familiar sarcasm. "You know, Utsuki, pacing through the manor every morning like a ghost won't make that idiot appear. Toki's not going to come strolling in just because you look for him in every corner."
Utsuki blinked, flustered. "I… I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were." Yuki smirked, sliding a tray of steaming bread rolls onto the counter. "To be honest, I almost miss having his foolish pupil underfoot. Idiot though he was, at least he tried to help. And that worm of a bookkeeper wasn't so bad at tidying up either—she kept the triplets from turning the whole place upside down. But we can't rely on others forever. Some things," she tapped her knife against the cutting board for emphasis, "must be done with our own hands."
Utsuki lowered her gaze, caught between irritation and reluctant agreement. Yuki's words, though cruelly delivered, carried truth.
She moved on to the dining hall. The long table glowed in morning light, and the triplets—Haru, Natsu, and Aki—were already seated, devouring their breakfast with noisy delight. Suzume moved with calm grace at their side, pouring tea into delicate cups, her movements so fluid they might have been part of a ritual.
Utsuki sank into her seat, but her mind drifted still, her heart not fully in the meal before her.
It was Leonard who broke her silence. Standing tall at the head of the table, his dark attire pressed and immaculate. His eyes, however, softened when they met hers. "Utsuki," he said gently, "today you will meet with the other candidates for the royal selection. You look radiant. It is a good day to be seen."
She nodded faintly. "Yes, I remember. I am ready." Or at least, she wished she were.
Something within her felt absent, as though a piece of her had been misplaced.
Leonard continued, his tone calm but certain. "Nearly two months have passed. Toki and the children will have grown stronger, without doubt. Their return will come soon."
"Yes," Utsuki replied softly. "They should be back soon."
The triplets leaned together, whispering excitedly between bites. "Imagine how strong Toki must be now!" Haru said, eyes gleaming. "And Kandaki! And Tora too!"
Their chatter grew so loud that Yuki snapped from the kitchen doorway, voice firm. "Quiet down, you brats. You'll choke if you keep flapping your mouths while you eat."
The children grumbled but subsided, though their eyes still shone with excitement.
From the corner of the hall came a sudden ripple of notes—Arashi the rabbit, bounding across the small pianino, ears twitching as he hopped from key to key. The clumsy melody filled the silence with a strange, playful charm. He landed neatly at Utsuki's side, fur soft against her dress as he settled close.
Looking up at her with bright eyes, he declared with typical arrogance, "Today I'll accompany you. I know I'm not Toki—because I'm far better than him. You'll see. We'll make the day entertaining."
A laugh slipped from Utsuki's lips despite herself. The sound startled her—it had been days since she had truly laughed. "You are impossible, Arashi."
"Impossible, perhaps," the rabbit replied with mock dignity, "but unforgettable."
The hall warmed with faint amusement, the heaviness in her chest lifting just slightly.
When the meal was finished, Leonard was already waiting by the door with the carriage prepared. The birds pawed at the earth, their breath steaming in the chill morning air. The man helped Utsuki inside, his hand steady, his words respectful.
The carriage rattled forward, wheels crunching over gravel as it left the estate behind. Arashi perched by the window, nose twitching at the sights and smells of the waking city. Utsuki leaned back against the velvet seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Her thoughts drifted once more. To Toki. To his absence. To the path she was now forced to walk alone.
She gazed out at the autumn sky, pale and endless above the rooftops, and whispered within herself, If everything leads me back to him… what am I supposed to do with that?
The city opened before them, and far beyond, the palace gates awaited.
"May your journey be peaceful," he said as the door closed. His gaze lingered with quiet assurance. "I will await your safe return."
The man had left them at the edge of the city, and from there they continued on foot, weaving through the peripheral streets that curled around the capital like a living ribbon.
Children ran barefoot between stalls, their laughter carrying through the air like little bells. Merchants arranged their wares, calling out prices, and mothers balanced baskets on their hips as they hurried past. The sight of Utsuki in her rose-colored gown made heads turn. Her silver hair, carefully brushed until it gleamed, marked her out instantly. People began to bow, adults stepping aside as though she were a visiting dignitary. She was not royalty, not yet—at least not in the sense the crown defined it—but she was something more immediate to these people: the lady connected to their champion.
"Good morning, Lady Utsuki!" a butcher's wife called, dipping low with her little boy clutching her skirts.
Utsuki returned the bow, smiling faintly, though the warmth in her eyes never quite reached her chest.
"Is Toki with you?" the boy piped up, his round face expectant.
Before Utsuki could answer, the mother dragged him back with an apologetic look. "Forgive him, my lady. He doesn't understand when to hold his tongue."
Utsuki's smile tightened, and she shook her head gently. "It's all right. Children should be curious."
Still, as she continued walking, her steps light on the cobblestones, the pang returned. They all asked for him. Always for him. She did not begrudge them—it was only natural. He had become their hero, the one who had lifted the Fourth Division from ruin, who had stood against monsters that should never have walked the earth. But it left her as little more than a reflection of his light, and that thought stung more than she cared to admit.
Her gaze slipped toward the children playing in the dust of the street, chasing one another with sticks for swords. For the briefest moment she imagined herself there again—standing in the middle of them, laughing, the night lanterns swinging overhead, while she and Toki had danced together. That memory had carved itself deep into her, one of the rare times she had allowed herself to be carefree.
She shook her head sharply, forcing the image aside. Nostalgia was a chain, and she refused to be bound.
Arashi hopped along beside her, his small frame strutting with exaggerated importance. The rabbit tilted his head at her. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"
"Am I so easy to read?"
"You're as easy as an open book left in the rain. All smudges and sighs." He gave a theatrical hop. "Don't worry, I'll be more entertaining than Toki ever was. Just watch."
Despite herself, Utsuki chuckled. The sound eased something tight in her chest, though only for a moment.
The gates of the palace came into view soon after, tall and wrought with black iron. But before she entered, her eyes were drawn to the courtyard that stretched wide to one side. There the men of the Fourth Division trained.
Utsuki halted, her lips parting slightly in surprise.
Gone were the slouching drunks and bitter malcontents she remembered from months ago. In their place stood disciplined soldiers, their backs straight, their blades flashing in the sunlight as they moved in coordinated drills. The air rang with the sound of steel meeting steel, but also with something deeper—a rhythm of determination.
When they saw her, several paused long enough to bow their heads in respect. "Lady Commander's Consort," one of them murmured, the title spoken with reverence.
Arashi elbowed her leg with his paw. "See? Even his men know who keeps him in line."
But Utsuki was quiet. Watching them was like catching sight of Toki's shadow. He was not here, and yet his presence was carved into every stance, every tightened fist. For a heartbeat she felt proud, the warmth blooming across her ribs. Then it faded, replaced by that same restless ache.
She turned away and walked toward the palace doors.
The great hall was cool, sunlight slanting in through tall windows. A servant guided her quickly to the conference chamber, where the other royal candidates had already gathered.
Lady Elizabeth sat with her chin propped on one hand, her eyes gleaming with mischief. When Utsuki entered, Elizabeth brightened. "Ah, finally! I was wondering if you'd left me to rot among these stiff backs."
Utsuki allowed herself a small smile and took the seat beside her. "Good morning, Elizabeth."
"I was just saying to myself," Elizabeth continued, ignoring decorum as always, "that I can't wait for Bernard to return. That idiot has the unique talent of amusing me even when he's annoying. It's been far too long since I last gave him a proper thrashing."
Across the table, Rosalin sat straight as a blade, her eyes like cold glass. She offered no greeting, only a faint curl of her lips that hinted at mockery. Utsuki felt the weight of her gaze but refused to shrink.
Next to her, Melissa sat in near-perfect posture. Every inch of her radiated the disciplined aura of a warrior. Though Utsuki had not spoken often with her, she respected her. There was no pettiness in Melissa's presence, only a firm sense of justice.
A court advisor entered and cleared his throat. "His Majesty King Mathias sends his apologies. He is unable to attend today's meeting. However, the agenda remains unchanged."
The conference passed in a blur. Utsuki listened, nodding when appropriate, but her thoughts remained elsewhere. When the meeting finally concluded, she rose swiftly, eager to escape the heavy air.
She had almost reached the door when Rosalin's voice cut through.
"Your knight and his little pupils have been gone for nearly two months, haven't they?"
Utsuki froze, then turned, her expression carefully composed.
Rosalin's smirk widened. "What a shame. That girl—Tora, isn't it?—she doesn't stand a chance against Reginald's apprentice. Nevil is the fastest child in the kingdom. Your team of misfits won't amount to much. A fitting match for a little witch."
Elizabeth shot up in outrage. "What did you say, you pompous crow?" Arashi bristled, his ears flattening as he hopped forward, ready to bare his teeth.
But Utsuki lifted a hand, stilling them both. Her voice was calm, though her eyes glimmered. "You may call me what you wish. I don't care. But I trust Toki. And I trust Tora. She will win—I know it."
Rosalin leaned back in her chair, amused. "Such conviction. Very well then—let us make a wager. If Nevil wins the race, you will kneel and lick the dirt from my shoes. But if, by some miracle, your Tora triumphs, then I will acknowledge you as my equal."
Elizabeth gasped. "That's outrageous—"
But Utsuki spoke before she could finish. "I accept."
Her words rang through the chamber like the toll of a bell. Elizabeth stared at her, wide-eyed, while even Arashi blinked in surprise. Rosalin arched a brow, clearly taken aback by Utsuki's unwavering tone.
"Until next time, little witch," Rosalin murmured, sweeping past them and out of the hall, leaving the air heavy with unspoken challenges.
When the silence settled, Melissa approached. She studied Utsuki for a long moment, then inclined her head. "You have great faith in your knight. That wager is dangerous. But I respect your courage." She extended her hand.
Utsuki clasped it, their palms firm. "Thank you. And I respect your honesty. I hope when the time comes, we will face one another fairly."
Melissa nodded once. "The next competition is the boxing tournament. Your Kandaki will fight against Harold's apprentice, Roland. Harold is strict and experienced. His pupil is much the same. I trust it will be a fair match. For their sake, I hope so."
"Then we are agreed," Utsuki said softly.
Melissa gave a faint smile before excusing herself.
Elizabeth sidled closer, muttering under her breath. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to take that bet. Honestly, you're starting to sound more like Bernard every day."
They walked together down the corridor, their footsteps echoing off the marble.
"Does Bernard not have a student to put forward?" Utsuki asked, curiosity edging her voice.
Elizabeth snorted. "That idiot can barely take care of himself, much less a child. He'd forget to feed them, I'm sure. Or worse, teach them all his bad habits." She sighed, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Still, I suppose that's why I tolerate him. Well, I must go. Keep your chin high, Utsuki. And for heaven's sake, don't let Rosalin get under your skin."
Utsuki inclined her head. "Thank you, Elizabeth. Take care."
They parted ways at the end of the corridor.
Outside the palace gates, a familiar figure awaited her.
Lady Lorelay stood watching the Fourth Division soldiers run their drills, her arms folded. When she spotted Utsuki, she approached with a calm smile. "I heard everything."
Utsuki's heart skipped, but she kept her expression smooth. "Then you know of the wager."
"I do." Lorelay's eyes softened. "I hope Toki and his pupils shut that arrogant woman's mouth for good. You have a great deal of faith in him, and he, in turn, has a great deal in you. Together, you make a formidable pair."
The words sank deep, stirring something unsteady in Utsuki's chest.
Lorelay glanced back toward the training yard. "I look forward to Smith's return with Toki. The place feels strangely empty without that brooding man sulking about."
A carriage rolled up then, Leonard at the reins. He tipped his hat politely as Utsuki climbed in. She leaned from the window long enough to wave a farewell to Lorelay.
As the wheels began to turn, carrying her back toward the Maho estate, her thoughts tangled like threads in a storm. Pride, doubt, affection, defiance—they all swirled within her, refusing to untangle.
The sun dipped low over the sprawling Maho estate, painting the fields and gardens in hues of amber and crimson. The air carried that crisp bite of autumn that seemed to sharpen every breath. In the courtyard, where a circle of stones had been cleared for practice, Utsuki stood barefoot on the cool ground. Her rose-colored gown had been replaced with a simpler dress, sleeves rolled up, silver hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck.
Her arms were outstretched, fingers trembling slightly as she drew in mana.
The world responded. The invisible threads of energy in the air gathered to her call, swirling like unseen rivers around her palms. The air thickened, condensed, until droplets shimmered into existence. Sweat dotted her brow, but she pressed on, her voice a whisper:
"Form… focus…"
The droplets fused into a small sphere of water, trembling between her hands. Her concentration narrowed to a needlepoint. She pushed further, compressing, forcing order upon chaos. The water solidified, turning clear as crystal, then sharp as glass. A shard of ice glistened, catching the last light of day.
Utsuki exhaled, the sound shaky but triumphant. The shard clinked as it fell to the stones at her feet, already melting back to nothing.
From the edge of the circle, Arashi clapped his small paws together with mock grandeur. "Marvelous! Simply marvelous! If rabbits had crowns, I'd knight you on the spot. Lady of Ice, Conqueror of Droplets, Mistress of—"
"Stop," Utsuki cut in, though the corners of her lips twitched upward. "You'll make me lose focus."
"Nonsense," Arashi sniffed. "Focus is for the unremarkable. You, my dear, are on the cusp of greatness. Another push, and you'll step into the third stage of mana cultivation." He hopped closer, his pink eyes shining. "Do you understand what that means? That's a threshold few ever reach. And you've done it with elegance, without those ugly grimaces some mages make."
Utsuki bent to pick up the half-melted shard, watching the water slide through her fingers. Her voice lowered, tinged with resolve. "I have to become stronger. I can't keep putting all my problems on his shoulders. I can't remain in his shadow forever."
Arashi tilted his head, ears flicking. "You speak of Toki again."
"Yes." Her gaze lifted, meeting the rabbit's. There was no hesitation in her eyes now, only determination. "If we are to walk together, then I must create a path of my own. One that is not just his burden, but ours to share. A road where we stand side by side."
The rabbit studied her silently for a moment before nodding with rare solemnity. "Then we train until you carve that road with your own hands."
Dinner in the grand hall was subdued but warm. Candles flickered in gilded holders, casting soft light across the long table. The children chattered as they ate: Haru with her mischievous grin, Natsu trying to tell a story with crumbs stuck to her cheek, Aki scolding her with mock severity. Suzume poured tea, her movements graceful, while Leonard listened in silence, a faint smile betraying his fondness for the scene.
Utsuki ate quietly, though her mind remained half in the courtyard. The taste of mana still lingered on her tongue, like iron and frost.
"You were late to dinner," Leonard remarked mildly. "Training again?"
Utsuki nodded. "I need the practice."
Arashi, perched beside her bowl, puffed out his chest. "And she is improving magnificently. Soon she'll freeze the entire kitchen if we're not careful."
The children giggled at that, their eyes wide with admiration.
"Will you teach us too, Lady Utsuki?" Haru asked eagerly.
"Perhaps one day," Utsuki replied with a gentle smile. "But first you must master your letters and sums. Magic requires discipline, not just dreams."
They groaned in unison, making her laugh softly. The sound surprised her—it had been a long time since laughter felt so natural.
Dinner ended with the usual chorus of thanks and clattering dishes. One by one, the children drifted off to their rooms. Leonard lingered, speaking quietly with Suzume about supplies. Arashi hopped down from the table and padded after Utsuki as she ascended the stairs to her chamber.
By the time she reached her room, the moon had already adorned the heavens, its pale glow spilling across the floor through her window. She changed into a light robe and lay back on her bed, staring at the canopy overhead.
Her body was tired, but her mind refused to rest. Memories threaded through her thoughts, weaving a tapestry she could not look away from. Toki's voice, rough but steady. The way he had danced with her beneath the lanterns. The reckless conviction in his golden eyes whenever he declared he would protect them all.
It was absurd, how in so short a time he had unraveled her carefully woven solitude.
She turned on her side, watching Arashi curl into his small bed, his breathing already softening. For once, the rabbit had no words left.
Utsuki's gaze drifted to the window. The moon stared back, round and bright, a silent witness to her turmoil.
Her whisper was barely audible. "In the end… we are stronger together."
The words lingered in the still air, half a vow, half a confession.
Far away, in the heart of the forest, another figure gazed at that same moon.
Toki stood amid the trees, chest heaving, his body drenched in sweat and streaked with blood. His training had pushed him to the brink again, muscles trembling, lungs burning. The scent of iron clung to him, mingling with the damp earth.
He tilted his head back, golden eyes catching the silver light that filtered through the branches. The pain in his limbs meant nothing. The exhaustion weighing down his bones was irrelevant.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"Just a little longer," he murmured hoarsely. "And I'll see you again, Utsuki."
The forest was silent but for his breath, yet in that silence, it felt as though the moon itself carried his promise across the distance—back to the girl who, at that very moment, whispered her own vow beneath the same light.
Two souls apart, yet bound by the same sky