Antifragile

The world was a blur of cold stone, iron shackles, and the oppressive silence of defeat. Sakura’s legs burned with exhaustion, but every step felt like a betrayal to the memory of those they had lost. Her heart was a jagged thing in her chest, hollowed out by grief and rage, but even in that shattered state, there was still a flicker of defiance. She had been captured, yes, but they hadn’t broken her. Not yet.

Beside her, Kazuha walked with a heavy, deliberate gait. Her head was lowered, her long hair tangled and wild, but her posture was proud in a way that made Sakura’s heart ache with something like admiration. Kazuha had always been the quiet one, the one who spoke little but always understood, always fought with a tenacity that seemed to come from some deep place inside her.

But now, their fates were sealed. They had been caught—dragged, shackled, and marched through the heart of the enemy’s forces, their every step echoing like a funeral drum. Eunbi had escaped, slipping away in the confusion, but Sakura couldn’t bring herself to feel relief for their leader. The fact that Eunbi was still alive only deepened the ache in her chest. She was alone now—utterly alone.

The soldiers who had captured them were Japanese royal soldiers, the very same men Sakura had once known. The realization hit her in waves, like the crashing of a tide against a cliff, pulling at the very core of her identity. They were her people, the ones who had sworn allegiance to her family, the ones who had served her grandfather, the emperor of Japan. Now, they were the ones dragging her back to Japan, to face the consequences of her defection.

The walk from the island to the ship had been grueling, but it was nothing compared to the endless voyage back to Japan. The salt air, the roiling waves beneath the ship, and the constant stares of the soldiers on board had driven Sakura nearly mad with the weight of it all. Her hands were raw from the shackles, and her body was weak, battered from the earlier fights and the long journey. But her mind… her mind was the hardest to escape. The memories of Chaewon, of the battle, of the lives lost, circled her thoughts in an endless loop. Every moment spent in that cage, on the ship, was a moment of endless torment.

Kazuha had remained stoic. Her eyes were focused on the horizon, as though she was willing herself to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. Sakura wanted to speak to her, to ask if she was alright, but the words felt hollow, useless. What comfort could she offer? What could she say that would change the fact that everything had crumbled, that the world they had fought for was slipping through their fingers like sand?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the shores of Japan. The air felt heavier here, laden with the history and weight of the empire that had claimed her as its own. The sky above was a dull grey, the clouds thick and ominous, as though the heavens themselves mourned the loss of her freedom.

They were immediately surrounded by more soldiers as the ship docked. The soldiers' faces were familiar—too familiar. Some had served at her grandfather’s court, others had been at the palace during her childhood. But now, they were strangers, enemies in the uniforms of the very men who had sworn to protect her family. Sakura tried to focus on their faces, to memorize each one, but her mind was numb, and her body felt distant.

“Move,” one of the soldiers barked, his voice harsh, almost mechanical, as he grabbed Sakura by the arm and yanked her forward.

Sakura flinched, her instincts fighting against the restraint, but she remained silent. The image of Chaewon’s body, lifeless and cold, flashed in her mind. The grief she felt, the rage that burned in her chest, threatened to overwhelm her. But she couldn’t give in—not yet. Not when there was still a chance to fight.

Kazuha was right behind her, silent but resolute, her eyes fixed ahead. It was clear she had already accepted what was coming. She had always been the one to carry the burden quietly, the one who never complained. But Sakura could see the anguish in her eyes, the pain of losing everything. She wanted to tell Kazuha that they would find a way out, that they would survive this—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just nodded to her, a silent promise to stand by her side.

The soldiers dragged them through the bustling streets of the city, past shops and homes that seemed to be oblivious to the tragedy unfolding. The city was alive, full of people going about their daily lives, unaware of the captives being paraded through the streets. Sakura felt a sickening sense of disconnection. The world around her moved on as though nothing had happened, as though everything they had fought for had been meaningless.

Eventually, they reached the palace—an imposing structure that loomed like a tomb in the center of the city. The gates were thrown open, and the guards stood at attention, their faces impassive as they ushered Sakura and Kazuha inside.

Sakura’s heart sank as they were led through the long corridors of the palace. She had grown up here, in these very halls. She had learned to walk, to speak, to bow to the emperor and his court. But now, it felt like a prison, the walls closing in around her. Each step she took was a reminder of the life she had lost, the life that had been stolen from her. She had once dreamed of a future here—of serving her people, of making a difference—but now, she was a prisoner in the very place that had once been her home.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall as they approached the throne room. It was a familiar sound, but now, it made Sakura’s blood run cold. She knew who was waiting for her. Her grandfather, the Emperor of Japan, would be there, sitting on his throne, waiting to pass judgment on her.

The doors to the throne room opened, and Sakura was pushed forward, her gaze falling on the figure seated at the head of the room. The Emperor. Her grandfather. His regal presence filled the room, and yet, it was not a presence of power—it was one of cold indifference.

“Ah, the runaway princess,” the Emperor said, his voice smooth but laced with contempt. “I knew you would return eventually, Sakura.”

Sakura’s fists clenched, but she kept her head down. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her rage, her pain. She had learned long ago that showing emotion in the face of her grandfather’s cruelty was a mistake. He thrived on it.

“Grandfather,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside her. “I did not come back willingly.”

He chuckled, a low, mirthless sound. “Of course not. You were always too stubborn for your own good.”

“Please,” Sakura said, her voice breaking for the first time. “Please, let Kazuha go. She had no part in this. She is not to blame for my actions.”

The Emperor’s gaze flickered to Kazuha, who stood quietly by Sakura’s side, her eyes lowered in submission. He regarded her for a moment before turning his gaze back to Sakura.

“You should have thought about that before you chose to align yourself with rebels and traitors,” he said, his voice colder now. “You have made your choice, Princess. And now, you must face the consequences.”

Sakura’s heart sank. She had known this moment was coming, but the finality of it still hit her like a blow to the chest. There was no hope left. No way out. They were going to die here, in this cold, unforgiving palace.

The Emperor waved a hand dismissively, signaling to the guards. “Take them to the execution grounds,” he said. “We are done here.”

Sakura was dragged away, but her eyes stayed on Kazuha. She wanted to say something, to apologize for dragging her into this, but the words wouldn’t come. Kazuha had always been there for her, always stood by her side. And now, it was her turn to stand by Kazuha’s.

As they were led through the palace, the sounds of the world seemed to grow dimmer. The reality of their fate was closing in, but still, Sakura held onto a shred of hope. She couldn’t let herself believe it was truly over.

The final march to the execution grounds felt like an eternity. The sky overhead was dark, clouds swirling with an ominous promise. When they arrived, there was no ceremony, no grand execution. There were no final words, no prayers. The soldiers lined them up, their faces cold and impassive, and with a single command, they raised their weapons.

Sakura closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end. But before the blow could fall, a sharp, piercing scream filled the air.

“Kazuha!” Sakura cried out, reaching for her friend as the soldiers advanced.

The sound of Kazuha’s fall echoed in the stillness. And in that moment, Sakura’s world shattered.