The Chains of the Rising Sun.

Donning a light blue kimono that draped down her slender figure, the youngest child of the Morita family waited. Gazing around the area in a panic, she watched for anyone who wouldn’t wish her to be there.

Of course, being the daughter of the infamous “raging tiger of Fukuoka” and the adopted sister of the current daimyou made it hard for her to get around by herself. The Morita family were renowned for their battle prowess. and Shizuki, once a part of the Yamashita family, was trained from a young age to advise the powerful family. However, their decimation was a mystery. No evidence that the Daimyo at the time, Morita Takanori, had ordered the hit, nor did anything allude to a suicide pact. All that is clear was that a young Shizuki was the only family member that did not disappear from one day to the other.A girl too young to realise the brutality of what was happening around her.

“Shizuki-san… you shouldn’t be around here…” That voice. The person she was waiting for. “What if Hikaru-sama finds you here?”

“Onee-sama wouldn’t mind. And besides, Murai-san, I came here to see you.”

Murai Yu stood before her, hand resting on the hilt of her katana as she also scanned the area. Her deep brown eyes, sharp and calculating, softened only when they landed on Shizuki. The flickering torch light from the nearby lanterns cast shifting shadows across her face, highlighting a conflict in her expression.

“Shizuki-san.” Yu repeated, this time quieter, almost a whisper. “It’s dangerous for you to be here. If anyone besides Hikaru-sama finds out… If your sister’s enemies find you here…”

Stepping closer towards Yu, she gripped the folds of her kimono tighter. “I don’t care,” Shizuki murmured, her voice shaking with determination. “I needed to see you.”

Yu reached out, but flinched, hesitating. A cool night breeze passed by them, rustling the cherry blossoms overhead. Their delicate petals drifted to the ground, mirroring the fragile moment between the two.

“You shouldn’t risk yourself like this.” Yu’s voice was firm, but her hand twitched at her side, as if longing to reach for her. “Y-Your sister—”

“My sister isn’t like our father, Murai-san” Shizuki interrupted, her fingers tightening around the silk of her sleeve. “She is more tolerant of the people, more tolerant of the fact that loyalty takes on many forms. B-but I’m scared. What if I—” Shizuki swallowed, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What if I don’t see things the same way? That no-one is truly loyal and that it’s survival of the fittest?”

Yu finally let out a quiet sigh, her expression solemn. “Then you’re walking a path of no return, Shizuki-san. Your sister might understand, but not everyone will.”

Shizuki raised her head, defiant, reaching her hand out to the swordswoman. “Then… will you be willing to walk it with me, Murai Yu-san?”

For the first time that night, a ghost of a smile crossed Yu’s lips. Unfortunately, it was bittersweet, tinged with the weight of unspoken words.

“If only the world would let us,” Yu murmured.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the empty field, alerting the two. Someone was coming.

Shizuki’s breath caught. Yu’s expression darkened, and without hesitation, she grabbed the former’s wrist, pulling the girl behind her.

“Stay behind me. We don’t know who this is.”

"Isn't it a bit late for the two of you to be here?" A voice called out to them, seeing a familiar - albeit short - figure approach.

"Ah, Onee-sama, I apologize." Shizuki said, silently bowing down.

"Deepest apologies, Morita-sama." Yu said, bowing a full ninety degrees. "I-I should get going."

"There's no need to, Murai. I would appreciate both of you staying here for a second."

"H-huh?"

Hikaru ushered the two girls towards her, confusion seeping through both of their faces.

"There's a story I want to tell you both. One close to my heart."

“Onee-sama…”

Hikaru took a deep breath, looking at the two as the wind started to howl around them. “I sacrificed too much to follow in Father’s footsteps. You know the story, Tsuki-chan, of how I fell in love. Of how this woman loves me and how I love her. But… at the end of the day, it was both a blessing, and a curse.”

“Hikaru!” Another voice called out, alerting the young daimyo. “Why are you out this late?”

“Don’t worry, Hono! I’ll be back inside soon!”

Shizuki’s brow furrowed, worried about her sister’s wellbeing. “Wait… Why is your relationship with Hono-nee a curse, onee-sama?”

Hikaru’s breath hitched for a moment, looking her sister in the eyes. “A kunoichi and a samurai, let alone the daimyo, shouldn’t be together, Tsuki-chan. You know that. Especially not the leaders of their respective families… and besides, war might be coming… I feel it.”

Shizuki’s sharp gaze caught the way Hikaru’s expression suddenly shifted—her confident demeanor crumbling into something fragile, something rare. Fear. A nervousness so stark and uncharacteristic that it sent an unsettling chill through her younger sister’s spine.

“O-Onee-sama—”

“I’ll be leaving first.” Hikaru’s voice was steady, but Shizuki could hear the strain beneath it. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her back now facing both Shizuki and Yu. “Make sure you get back inside as quickly as possible, okay?”

The dismissal felt forced. A rushed escape.

“Onee-sama, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” Shizuki pressed, stepping forward and grasping Hikaru’s wrist, refusing to let her slip away so easily. Her fingers trembled slightly against her sister’s skin. “Please… at least rest.”

For a moment, something flickered in Hikaru’s eyes—hesitation, exhaustion—but just as quickly, she shoved it down.

“Y-Yeah… Goodnight, Tsuki-chan.” The words came as barely a whisper before Hikaru pulled away and disappeared into the shadows of the dimly lit corridor.

Shizuki remained frozen, watching the space her sister had just occupied, an uneasy weight settling in her chest. A hand soon found her wrist, and she turned to see Yu’s worried expression.

“Don’t,” Yu murmured gently, giving Shizuki a slight pull as if to anchor her back to reality. “She might need some space. Give her time. For now, let’s go back inside...”

Shizuki swallowed the lump in her throat but nodded. Yet, the worry gnawed at her as they made their way back to their sleeping quarters.

Before she could fully step inside, a glimmer of candlelight from an ajar door caught her eye. Her breath hitched as she recognized the figure inside—Hikaru, slumped over her desk, tension evident in the set of her shoulders. Before her stood another woman, one Shizuki recognized instantly. The formidable ninja and noblewoman she had long admired.

Tamura Hono.

“Hono, we need to arrange a meeting,” Hikaru’s voice was urgent, her fingers gripping a worn piece of parchment. “Gather everyone—anyone with influence. The samurai, the noblemen, the generals. War is imminent.”

Hono exhaled, crossing her arms. “Hikaru… We can’t assume the other daimyos are conspiring against you.” She reached out, fingers brushing against Hikaru’s tensed forearm in an attempt to calm her. “Not everything is a declaration of war. Maybe they want to negotiate, to find peace—”

Hikaru jerked away, swatting her hand aside. “No.” Her voice was sharp, almost desperate. “The signs are here, Hono. Can’t you see it?”

Hono’s brows furrowed as she glanced down at the scattered papers on the desk, the inked words swimming beneath the candlelight. To her, they appeared to be nothing more than political exchanges, records of trade agreements, letters between lords. Nothing explicitly suggested a coup.

“Hikaru…” she murmured cautiously, watching as Hikaru rifled through the stack, pulling out a single, crumpled document.

“Here, Hono.” Hikaru shoved the paper toward her, eyes blazing with conviction.

Hono scanned the page, her eyes trailing over a particular phrase that made her breath hitch.

The emperor and shogun are useless... maybe it's time to take things into our own hands.

A cold weight settled in Hono’s stomach.

“See?” Hikaru’s voice was hushed, yet urgent. “I’m not wrong.”

Hono bit her lip, her grip tightening on the parchment. “But we can’t be hasty…” Her voice wavered, her mind racing. “What if we make the wrong move? What if one of us—what if even Shizuki—gets hurt?”

Hikaru’s expression hardened. Her hands clenched into fists.

“If we do nothing, we’ll all be in danger anyway. That's exactly why we have to do this. I can't let any of you get hurt, especially not Tsuki-chan...”

"War will only exacerbate this, and you know it, Hikaru."

"Not if we get to them first before they can do anything..."

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with uncertainty.

Shizuki exhaled shakily from her hidden vantage point, her pulse hammering in her ears. The fear she’d seen in Hikaru’s eyes earlier suddenly made sense.

Something terrible was coming.

And her sister knew it.

---------------------------------------

The next morning, a heavy tension settled over the castle like an unspoken curse. Servants moved with hushed whispers, their usual routines stiff with unease, as if they too could sense the weight of what was coming. Outside, the morning sun cast a pale glow over the courtyard, but inside Hikaru’s office, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

The room was packed. Seated and standing around the long wooden table were various figures of authority—high-ranking samurai, esteemed noblemen, strategists, and even a few rogue warriors whose allegiance lay only with power. Each one had come at Hikaru’s urgent summons, some with grave expressions, others with skepticism evident in their stances. The faint scent of burning incense did little to mask the air of uncertainty.

At the head of the room stood Hikaru, clad in formal attire befitting her status as daimyo, yet the dark circles beneath her sharp eyes betrayed her restless night. She didn’t sit, didn’t even allow herself the luxury of appearing tired. Instead, she placed both hands firmly on the table, her presence commanding attention.

“This is a meeting of utmost importance,” she declared, her voice steady, though an undeniable fire burned beneath her calm exterior.

Some exchanged glances. Others straightened in their seats.

From the opposite side of the room, a taller woman stepped forward, her polished samurai helmet clutched in her arms. She bore the unmistakable confidence of a seasoned warrior, her long, dark hair tied back, her gaze sharp yet unreadable.

“Morita-dono,” she addressed formally, her voice measured but not without doubt. “I am aware of the whispers—rumors of war brewing in the shadows. But can you truly prove that one is being planned?”

A murmur rippled through the room. Some nodded in agreement; others leaned forward in anticipation.

Hikaru exhaled slowly, then turned to the stacks of documents and letters sprawled across her desk. She lifted one particular parchment, its edges slightly crumpled from the number of times she had read and reread it through the night.

"Look at all the evidence, Matono-san. It's pretty conclusive at this point."she said, holding it up for all to see. “It’s no longer just whispers in the wind. It is written, spoken, planned behind closed doors. And if we do nothing, we will be crushed before we even realize the battle has begun.”

"Regardless of what evidence you have, what if it turns out everything is false? What then? How many lives will need to be lost before we realise?"

"If it were false, then I would not be doing this."

Matono looked away from her superior. "Have you proven that these are real, Morita-dono. I'm afraid these might be a red herring to lower your awareness." 

Hikaru's grip on the parchment tightened, to the point of the paper almost tearing. "Are you insinuating that I am naive, Matono-san?"

"O-Of course not, Morita-dono, I'm just aware that sometimes-"

"Then you should know that I am not wrong."

Matono took a deep breath before looking at her daimyo. The room fell into silence, save for the distant cry of a crow beyond the shoji screens. 

“Then tell us, Morita-dono,” the samurai spoke again, gripping her helmet tighter. “What do you intend to do?”

Hikaru’s jaw tightened.

Everything rested on her next words.

Hikaru took a steady breath, letting the silence stretch as she met the expectant gazes in the room. The weight of the moment pressed against her, but she refused to waver.

“Let us attempt diplomacy first,” she said at last, her voice even but firm. “The first instance of anyone being hurt, the first drop of blood spilled… will change everything. We must avoid that if we can.”

A few murmurs rose among the gathered warriors and noblemen, some nodding in agreement while others exchanged skeptical glances. The tension in the room remained thick, like a sword poised mid-swing.

“Who do you propose to go, Morita-dono?”

Hikaru exhaled through her nose before answering.

“Ishimori-san.”

The name had barely left her lips before another voice cut through the air.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

The statement was sharp, resolute. Hikaru turned her gaze to Matono Mio, who had taken a firm step forward, her hands clenched at her sides.

“Why not?” Hikaru’s brow furrowed. “I have made my decision clear.”

Mio’s jaw tightened. “M-Mio-chan, please…” Rika’s soft voice wavered beside her, but Mio didn’t look away from Hikaru.

“No,” Mio said, her voice thick with emotion. “I won’t let you do that. You can’t just send someone off to die like this! You can’t decide so easily who gets sent on a suicide mission!”

A heavy silence followed, thick enough to steal the air from the room.

But Rika, ever composed, simply reached for Mio’s hand, her fingers gentle as they caressed the clenched fist. “Don’t worry, please.”

Mio’s lips parted, but no words came.

“If I didn’t want to go, I would have refused from the start,” Rika continued softly. “But I chose this. Trust me.”

Mio swallowed hard, her grip tightening around Rika’s fingers. “But—”

A voice cut through the growing tension, calm yet commanding.

“Morita-dono, excuse my sudden interruption, but I’m sure many of my colleagues here would agree with Matono’s sentiments.”

The speaker was Murayama Miu, her expression unreadable as she stepped forward, the soft flicker of candlelight casting sharp shadows across her face. Though her voice remained level, it carried a quiet intensity that made the room still. “I know it might sound as if I’m disobeying your orders, but I am only speaking on behalf of those who might hesitate to raise their voices on this matter.”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the gathered warriors and officials, heads turning as they exchanged uncertain glances. Some nodded subtly in agreement, while others remained rigid, unwilling to speak against their daimyo so openly.

Hikaru narrowed her eyes slightly, her fingers twitching against the lacquered wood of the table. “What exactly are you trying to insinuate, Murayama-san?”

Miu did not waver. Her dark eyes met Hikaru’s, steady and unwavering. “That proceeding with this plan would be a mistake.”

Hikaru’s jaw tensed. The air in the room thickened.

“Sending too many influential figures to one place is a tactical risk,” Miu continued. “If the enemy sees an opportunity to strike, they will. And if you, Tamura-san, or Ishimori-san were to be injured—or worse—us samurai under your command wouldn’t be able to mobilize fast enough to counter the attack. Your leadership is invaluable. Without it, chaos would spread through our ranks.”

She spoke with the precision of a seasoned strategist, her logic undeniable. Hikaru’s gaze flickered toward the others in the room. Some of the older generals nodded slightly, their expressions tight with concern. Even Hono, usually unshaken, seemed to reconsider for a brief moment.

“Morita-sama, as your lead strategist, I cannot, in good conscience, recommend going forward with this plan.”

Odakura Reina, Hikaru’s lead strategist, also chimed in. Her voice softened slightly, though the weight of her words still hung heavy. “However…” Her expression shifted, a quiet resignation settling in her features. “I know I can’t stop you.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“Odakura-san—” Hikaru started, but the words faltered on her lips.

For a moment, the young daimyo looked less like the unshakable leader she tried to be, and more like the restless, burdened girl who had barely slept the night before.

She knew Reina was right. But she also knew she couldn’t afford to wait.

“Hikaru,” Hono interjected, stepping forward with arms crossed, her expression firm. “Let me go with her. I understand why you want a high noble like Ishimori-chan to go, but Matono-chan is right.”

Hikaru shook her head immediately. “Taking a samurai and a ninja with her would put a target on all of us, Hono. And you know that.”

“You know I have an oath to fulfill,” Hono countered, eyes burning with conviction. “Not just to you as daimyo, but to everyone who calls this castle, this town,  home. I won’t stand by if—”

“See?” Mio turned back to Hikaru, her voice laced with desperation. “Tamura-san agrees with me. It would be safer if she went instead of Rika.”

“It’s not that simple, Matono-san.”

Mio’s grip on Rika’s hand tightened again, but this time, Rika gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Morita-sama,” she said gently, her eyes locking with Hikaru’s, filled with unwavering resolve. “It’s fine. I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

Hikaru hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but something in Rika’s expression made her pause.

“… Rika…” Mio’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Hikaru exhaled deeply, shoulders visibly tense. “Are you sure, Ishimori?”

“Of course.”

A heavy silence followed.

“… That should settle it.” Hikaru’s voice held finality, but the flicker of unease in her gaze did not go unnoticed.

“Hikaru…” Mio’s voice trembled slightly, her grip still locked with Rika’s as if she were afraid to let go.

“This meeting is adjourned for now,” Hikaru said, stepping back from the table. “I apologize for gathering you all so early.”

One of the noblemen bowed slightly. “It’s no bother, Morita-dono.”

As the room slowly emptied, Mio stood frozen in place, her heart pounding. Rika gave her hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go.

And just like that, Mio felt like she was losing her.