The hall of the Tsukihana was colder than usual.
Even though fire crackled in the hearth, and sunlight poured in through the tall windows, a chill hung in the air—a silence that didn't belong in a home once filled with command and control.
Three elders sat at the table. None of them touched the tea that had long gone cold.
"She left no trace?" one asked quietly.
A servant standing by the door shook his head. "None, Elder. Her horse returned by itself. No footprints. No messengers. No blood."
The eldest among them—Reina's uncle—gritted his teeth and looked toward the man seated at the head of the table.
Lord Ryouma, Reina's father.
Still. Silent.
Like a statue carved from steel.
His hands were clasped, elbows on the table, brows knitted so tightly that not even rage escaped.
"Your daughter…" one of the generals began cautiously. "If she has betrayed—"
The sound of wood snapping echoed sharply. Ryouma's hand had crushed the delicate tea cup in his palm, porcelain shards slicing into his skin—but he didn't flinch.
"Say it again," he said softly, blood dripping onto the floor. "Call her a traitor one more time."
The room froze.
"No one," he continued, rising slowly, "calls my blood disloyal without proof."
"She could be dead," someone whispered.
"She's not," Ryouma snapped, eyes blazing like frost-tipped fire. "If she was, I would feel it. My daughter is alive. She's just… lost."
The eldest brother of Reina stood in a shadowed corner, arms crossed, lips pressed tight. "Or hiding."
Ryouma turned to him. "Send every scout we have. If she's wearing another name, tear it off her. If she's wearing a mask, rip it away. I want her brought back."
"And if she refuses?" the uncle asked.
A pause. Long. Heavy.
"She won't."
But as he sat again, staring into the blood-stained tea on the table, his hands trembled once—just once—before curling into fists.
The morning sun bathed the distant kingdom of Tsukihana in a quiet, tense hush. Inside the grand palace hall, voices buzzed in worry—but none dared say it aloud.
Reina was missing.
Ryouma Arashi, the stern and fearsome leader of the Tsukihana Kingdom, stood at the center of the chamber, arms crossed. His face, carved in stone, showed no emotion. But his eyes—they flickered with unrest.
"Still no word?" he asked, voice calm, almost too calm.
One of the council elders shook his head. "We've searched through the east marshes and beyond the border forests. No trace."
Reina's brother, the hot-blooded and loyal Raien, paced at the edge of the room, his fingers twitching near the hilt of his blade. "She wouldn't just vanish," he said. "Not without a reason."
Ryouma's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer. To show fear was to show weakness. But inside, he feared the worst. Reina had always been unpredictable—brilliant, wild, too clever for her own good.
In her private chamber, Reina's younger sister—Ai—sat at her desk, hunched over a rolled parchment. Her hands moved quickly, tying a message to a small bird's leg.
"To Reina. They are searching. Be careful. They're close."
She opened the window and let the bird fly. Ai whispered, "Please, come back alive."
The morning air was crisp, the forest still soaked in the silver mist of dawn. Birds chirped softly, and the pine trees stood tall like quiet sentinels around the Kiryuu grounds. Sayaka stood by the stables, her hand brushing the mane of her horse, waiting.
"Are you sure she's coming?" one of the guards asked.
Sayaka nodded. "She said she wanted to learn."
And sure enough, Reina appeared. Wrapped in a modest white robe, her hair loosely tied at the nape, she walked over with a faint smirk pulling at her lips. She looked calm, almost too calm for a girl about to go hunting for the first time.
"You still remember how to hold a bow, or are you relying on my hands again?" Sayaka teased.
Reina smiled without looking at her. "If you want me to rely on your hands, Sayaka-dono, then you should at least offer them."
Sayaka's eyes flickered to her lips, then away. "Mount up. We'll go slow."
They rode together into the woods, letting the horses move at a gentle trot. The further they got, the quieter it became—just the sound of hooves on fallen leaves and the faint rustling of forest creatures. Sayaka stole glances at Reina now and then. She looked serene, her gaze darting around the trees with something like curiosity… but Sayaka knew it was something else. Alertness. Preparedness. Like she wasn't just learning to hunt—she was preparing for something.
Earlier that morning, Reina had received the message.
She opened it under the wooden beams of her room, alone. The bird fluttered away as she scanned the paper quickly.
"They're getting close. Two or three—armed. Searching every forest path. Be careful. Don't let Sayaka see."
— From your little shadow.
Reina folded the message and slid it into the pocket inside her robes.
Now, as Sayaka dismounted and moved ahead, explaining tracking marks on the ground, Reina lingered behind slightly. Her hand brushed the inside of her robe, where her small concealed dagger rested. She could feel it like a heartbeat.
Sayaka looked back. "Are you listening?"
"Of course," Reina replied, stepping closer. "You make a wonderful teacher. Though… if I had to choose a teacher or a protector, I'd choose the latter."
Sayaka gave her a look, but before she could respond, Reina turned away toward a narrow trail leading deeper into the trees.
"Let's try there," Reina said.
Sayaka frowned. "That's not the main trail."
"I know. But it looks quiet. Less crowded. More fun."
Sayaka hesitated, then nodded, following her.
Deeper in the woods, the silence grew heavier. Even the birds seemed to have gone quiet.
Reina slowed her pace.
Then, she saw them—three figures, moving quietly through the brush, faces hidden, their posture tense and focused. Her stomach twisted. She stepped back, trying to shield Sayaka's line of sight.
Not here. Not in front of her. Not like this.
"I'll go ahead," Reina said suddenly. "You stay here. I thought I saw a deer's track."
Sayaka raised an eyebrow. "I thought you needed a teacher."
"I'll scream if I see a bear."
Before Sayaka could reply, Reina slipped through the trees.
She moved like a shadow—quiet and fast. The men hadn't noticed her yet.
"Reina-sama?" one of them called quietly.
Her breath caught. They were close.
The second man raised a hand. "We've found her. Return signal to the prince?"
"No," she whispered, stepping out from behind the tree. "You won't."
The men froze.
Reina's eyes burned cold. "You shouldn't have come here."
The fight was fast and quiet. Reina struck first, her blade swift and low. One man gasped before collapsing. The other two jumped in, but she was quicker, more practiced than they expected. Still, one blade caught her side. She winced, staggering, but did not stop.
Just as she struck down the second man, the third turned to flee—
—and ran straight into Sayaka's blade.
The warrior's eyes widened. "Sayaka—?"
Sayaka stood between them, panting, her eyes locked on Reina, her blade dripping.
Reina clutched her side, trying to steady herself. "They were thieves," she said quickly. "I was trying to—stop them—"
Sayaka stepped forward. "You're bleeding."
Reina opened her mouth to speak—but her knees buckled.
Sayaka caught her.
"I was… I was going to tell you something…" Reina murmured, her voice fading. "But it… it can wait."
Her eyes closed, and her weight sank against Sayaka's chest.
Sayaka stood there in the silent woods, holding her tightly, her expression unreadable as she looked down at the girl she didn't understand, but couldn't bear to lose.
The scent of camphor leaves lingered in the air, sharp and clean.
Reina stirred, her breath hitching faintly as a dull ache spread through her shoulder. Her lashes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the golden morning light slipping through the wooden shutters.
Her vision cleared… and the first thing she saw was Sayaka.
Sitting beside her bed. Unmoving. Unblinking.
Sayaka's arms were crossed loosely over her chest, but her posture wasn't cold—it was alert, steady, watching. Protective.
Reina blinked again. "You're… still here?"
Sayaka looked up and met her gaze. "You fainted mid-sentence," she said plainly. "What was I supposed to do—leave you in the forest with the wolves?"
A weak laugh escaped Reina, quickly followed by a wince. "I'm not that fragile."
"No," Sayaka murmured, softer. "But you were bleeding."
A pause passed between them.
"…Are you okay?" Sayaka asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Reina nodded slowly, then shifted upright with effort. "It's not that deep."
"You lost a lot of blood."
"I've had worse."
Sayaka didn't argue. But her silence spoke louder than protest.
After a breath, Reina glanced around. "Did anyone ask… what happened?"
"I told them you were attacked. Some of the guards are already investigating. I didn't mention the part about the three men calling your name."
Reina's lips tightened. She lowered her gaze and took in a breath.
"They weren't a clan," she said finally, voice carefully calm. "They were thieves. I saw them while I was following a deer trail. I think they were watching us. They waited until I split off."
Sayaka frowned. "But they knew your name."
"They must've overheard it," Reina lied smoothly. "While we were talking."
Sayaka didn't look convinced, but she said nothing.
Reina's hand gripped the edge of the blanket. "They took my pouch. The money I was carrying—it was stolen. I couldn't let them go. Not when that money was given to me by the Kiryuu. It's not just mine—it's the trust of the clan. Of you."
Her eyes lifted, meeting Sayaka's. "If I let them go, I'd be insulting your kindness. Your hard work."
For a long while, Sayaka didn't respond. Then, finally, she sighed.
"You're reckless."
"I've been called worse."
"But you fight like someone who doesn't want to die."
Reina smiled faintly. "Maybe I don't."
Sayaka stood then, turning toward the door. "Rest. You're not leaving this room until your wound closes."
Reina tilted her head. "You're ordering me now?"
Sayaka glanced back with a small smirk. "No. I'm just saying what'll happen."
And then she was gone, the door clicking softly behind her.
Reina let herself fall back against the pillows. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling beams above.
The truth still lay between them, heavy and unspoken.
But not yet.
Not today.
She reached toward the place her message had been hidden, wondering who had seen her. Wondering if they were still watching.
Outside, the wind stirred gently—too gentle to feel like a warning.
But she knew.
The storm hadn't passed.
It was only just beginning.
(To be continued)
Thank you for your attention.....