Chapter Text
The Shirasagi Himegimi is as perfect as a person can be; she is the textbook definition of everything that makes a noble great and is admirable for doing what she does.
She stands as an ideal, someone to be looked up to on a pedastal.
Admiration by the very nature of the social construct, creates distance. A distance very few will dare to cross.
On the other hand, the younger sister Ayase was not someone people necessarily placed above themselves. She was often, unexpectedly, found right beside them. Some called her kind. Others, gloomy. Most simply found her strange.
For those reasons, the “Yukihime” was never spoken of in the same breath as the Shirasagi Himegimi even though she was no less a daughter of the Kamisato Clan.
At the very least, she had a habit common amongst the noble ladies. She was always sheltered by an umbrella of fine material and lovely design. Curiously, these umbrellas often find themselves in the hands of small children.
It seems that, as children tend to do in their excitement to go outside and play, had tuned out their mother’s words and paid no heed to the angry storm clouds brewing overhead. As it begins to pitter patter onto the blessed earth, their little feet will get them to the nearest shelter…which just so happens to be the visiting Lady Ayase, beautiful as ever with her violet umbrella propped up against her shoulder.
She adjusted the umbrella with a slight turn of her wrist, a habit too precise to have been learned anywhere but a noble household. The umbrella tilted slightly.
One of the children reached out instinctively then froze, unsure if he was meant to take it. She let go either way.
The umbrella felt too fine in his hands. He held it carefully, as though it might be taken back.
Perhaps noticing this, Ayase adjusted his hands along the handle, firm but careful.
“Don’t get sick.”
By the time he looked up to thank her, she had already stepped back into the rain with her back turned to them.
She continues on her usual route, standing tall like a cypress tree undeterred by storm. She didn't fuss about the rain ruining her hair and makeup, the cold wind nipping her skin, the expensive fabric of her clothes becoming soaked.
And so this strange noble lady caught the eye of a certain ronin one particular, not-so-fine, rainy day.
Of course, he ever so courteously offered the young lady his umbrella as any sensible gentleman would.
“My lady, you’ll catch a cold.”
However, the princess looked at him like he was a jester performing a moronic act for her amusement.
Or simply, she looked at him like he was an idiot.
“There is no point,” she pushed the umbrella away, “you’d get wet as well.”
And so, like a real idiot, he closed his umbrella.
“Then, let’s get rained on together! It only seems fair. A gentleman should never let a lady suffer alone.”
"Pft- Hahaha!"
There is a tradition for the first day of the new year where temples ring a massive bell one hundred and eight times. Every ring resonates through your body to the very core, as though your soul has been cleansed and the world seemed just a bit clearer. It was a similar feeling.
It wouldn’t be anyone’s first time hearing her voice or seeing her face. But Ayase became known as the Yukihime for a reason. She never smiled. She spoke plainly. She was reserved. To any noble lady, it would’ve been cruel, for their existence to be tied to a dangerous, malicious yokai from old folk tales. Ayase, ever cool, did not so much as bat an eye at the name. She answered to it as if it were her own.
Who would’ve guessed that she was so easily amused?
“I imagine that you make many friends during your travels, Mister.”
“You can call me Tomo.”
The rest of the walk passed without another word.