CH 12: A Lonely Flower

Under the soft sound of one of Aethalgard’s sacred waterfalls, Isao sat cross-legged beneath the cascading water, her white training robe soaked and clinging to her small frame. “Fufu…” she giggled softly, clearly not taking her meditation seriously.

Without warning,

bonk!

a wooden sword tapped her on the head.

“Ouch! Nee-chan!” Isao yelped, clutching her head and glaring at her sister.

Sayuri sighed, her expression calm but her brow twitching. “Focus, Ayaka. You have the talent to surpass me, but you’ll never unlock your potential if your mind keeps wandering.” Her tone was strict, but there was an undercurrent of care, though it was hard to tell with how irritated she still was about her pay being cut for three years.

“Geez, you’re so strict.” Isao complained, hopping up from the water and shaking herself off like a drenched cat. “But what do I even need to unlock, anyway?” she asked, sneezing adorably as Sayuri threw her a towel.

Sayuri sighed again, resting her boken on her shoulder. “Our family, the Kaminari, are known for lightning-element magic. It’s our bloodline’s pride. But Mother’s side… her magic was always about flowers.” Her tone softened slightly, though her eyes remained distant. “Of course, Father deemed her useless because of it. Their marriage was purely political. He never loved her.”

Isao’s playful expression faded. She looked down, her damp bangs covering her eyes. She remembered those words, how their father’s cold gaze always lingered on her like she was an unwanted reminder. “Yeah… I know,” she muttered.

Sayuri glanced at her little sister, recognizing the bitterness in her voice.

Isao hugged the towel close. “He always said I looked just like her. That’s why I stopped using ‘Ayaka’ in the castle. The name... mom have given me.”

Sayuri’s expression softened, a faint guilt flickering in her eyes.

“When you told him you were taking me to Aethalgard,” Isao continued quietly, “he didn’t even care. But when you were scouted as a Katana Saint, he threw a fit. It’s funny, right? The daughter he actually trained and respected, the one he didn’t want to lose, still left him behind.”

Sayuri looked away, the sound of the waterfall filling the silence between them. “That’s because I didn’t want to become like him,” she said softly. “Power means nothing without purpose. And I intend to make sure you learn that too, Ayaka.”

Isao blinked up at her, then smiled faintly. “Heh… fine, fine. But no more head bonking, okay?”

Sayuri raised the boken slightly, smirking. “Then no more daydreaming under waterfalls.”

“Ehhh~ you’re no fun, nee-chan!” Isao pouted, earning another light bonk for good measure.

“Ayaka,” Sayuri said softly, her voice carrying over the sound of the waterfall, “you’re one of the prophesied children. And I know that to unlock your potential… you must tap into Mother’s powers too.”

Isao frowned, drying her hair with the towel. “Sigh… and what would being able to use floral magic even lead to? Father said it’s useless.”

Sayuri shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t believe that for a second.” She stepped closer, her tone gentle but resolute. “When Mother was still alive, she could make flowers bloom even in winter. She didn’t have combat strength, true, but her magic made people smile, brought peace wherever she went. Look, Isao… you can’t judge magic based on what others tell you or how destructive it is. Lady Solace uses light magic for healing, while Lady Cateleya uses the same element to smite her enemies. It’s not the magic that defines power, it’s how you use it.” She smiled softly, eyes wistful. “Mother’s floral magic might be the same. Maybe she was the first to ever wield it. Maybe it’s something new… something tied to the reason you were chosen as one of the prophesied children.”

Isao turned her back, staring down at the flowing water. Her shoulders slumped. “Sigh… I’m hungry, nee-chan. Let’s just end the training for today,” she said quietly, walking away.

Sayuri blinked. “Ayaka?”

But Isao didn’t answer. Her hands tightened on the towel. Deep inside, she didn’t like this talk about her mother, not because she hated her, but because everyone else did. She could still remember her father’s cold eyes whenever he looked at her, how the servants whispered that she resembled the Empress too much, the same face, the same eyes.

Every time she saw her reflection, she didn’t see herself. She saw the woman her father despised.

That was why she trained harder, laughed louder, acted carefree… to drown out that feeling of being unwanted. And hearing Sayuri speak about their mother so warmly only stirred emotions she wasn’t ready to face.

“…I’m going ahead,” Isao muttered, forcing a small smile before heading down the path.

Sayuri watched her go, a faint sadness in her eyes. “Ayaka… you’re just like her,” she whispered. “Strong-hearted… but lonely.”