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The courtyard smelled faintly of iron and damp stone.
Morning light spilled over the castle walls in long, slanted beams, catching on the edges of drawn blades and the polished rivets of armor. The training grounds were already awake, though the rest of the castle still lingered in that quiet space of sleep. Steel rang out in sharp, measured strikes, each impact echoing against the high walls before fading into the open sky.
Teto stood at the center of it.
Her grip was steady despite the sweat beginning to gather at her palms, the leather of her gloves darkened from use. The sword felt heavier today, not in weight but in expectation. She adjusted her footing, heel pressing into the dirt as she squared herself again.
“Again.”
Her master’s voice cut cleanly through the air.
She moved before the echo finished, blade lifting, then falling in a controlled arc. It was a careful strike that prioritized form over force. The edge stopped just short of its mark.
A wooden practice blade met hers with a sharp crack.
The impact jarred up her arms, forcing her back a step. Dust shifted beneath her boots. She didn’t lose her balance, but she felt the correction in the way her master’s stance remained unchanged.
“You hesitate,” he said.
Teto tightened her grip, jaw setting. “I was measuring the distance.”
“And in that time, you would be dead.”
The courtyard seemed quieter that moment. Even the other trainees’ movements felt distant, dulled by the weight of the statement her master had given her. Her ears turned red from embarrassment, hoping no one heard any bit of it.
Teto lowered her blade just slightly, then raised it again. “One more time,” she said, determined.
This time, she stepped in faster. Steel struck wood, then slid—her angle corrected mid-swing, the motion sharper.
It still wasn’t enough.
Her master knocked her blade aside with minimal effort, the motion effortless. The tip of his practice sword stopped just at her shoulder. It was another loss.
Teto exhaled through her nose, steadying herself, though something restless flickered beneath the surface of her focus.
“...You’re thinking too much,” he said plainly, lowering his weapon. “A battlefield will not wait for you to be certain.”
She didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze dropped, just for a second, to where the shadows overlapped across the dirt.
“I don’t want to make a mistake,” she said quietly. Her grip from her sword had loosened.
Her master studied her, longer than usual. Then he stepped back, creating space between them. “You will,” he replied. “The question is whether you will keep moving after.”
Teto nodded once, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t fully ease. She reset her stance anyway, lifting the blade again as if the conversation hadn’t happened, as if repetition alone could carve certainty into her movements.
Above them, the castle loomed–-stone towers catching the growing light, banners stirring lazily in the morning breeze.
From the upper walkway, the world looked smaller.
Miku rested her hands lightly against the cool stone railing, leaning forward just enough to watch without being noticed. The height softened the sounds of the courtyard below, turning sharp clashes into distant noise.
“Your Highness, you shouldn’t linger in the open.”
The voice behind her was gentle, but firm in the way it always was.
Miku didn’t turn right away. Her attention remained fixed on the figure below, the girl with the red hair, moving again and again under the watchful eye of her instructor.
“I’m not in the open,” Miku teased. “Not really!”
Her caretaker stepped closer, the soft rustle of fabric the only sign of movement. “It’s still not proper.”
“Mm.”
Below, the clash of weapons rang out again. This time, the red-haired girl moved differently, faster, and less restrained than before. It lasted only a moment before her stance broke, her blade knocked aside with practiced ease.
Miku tilted her head slightly. “She lost again,” she murmured. There was no judgement in it. Just observation.
The caretaker followed her gaze, though her interest was less invested. “That is what training is for.”
“Not like that.”
Miku’s fingers traced against the stone lightly. “She stops,” she continued, almost to herself. “Right before she strikes.”
As if on cue, the girl below her reset her stance once more, shoulders squaring, blade rising. The sunlight caught against the edge of it, bright and fleeting. Miku watched the moment stretch, the quiet before impact.
“...What’s her name?” she asked.
Her caretaker hesitated, if only briefly. “A page in training, I believe. From a minor noble house. Kasane… Teto.”
Below, Teto moved again. This time, she didn’t hesitate.
The strike came faster and sharper—imperfect but she finally committed. When her master deflected it, the force of the impact sent a clear vibration through both blades, louder than before, echoing briefly against the courtyard walls.
It still wasn’t a win, but it was closer. Miku smiled, just slightly. “She’ll get there,” she said a little softer than she expected.
Her caretaker didn’t respond.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of iron upward, mixing with the cool air of the higher halls. Miku remained where she was a moment longer, watching as the training continued.
Eventually, she stepped back from the stone wall.
“Come,” her caretaker urged gently.
Miku nodded, but her gaze lingered just a second too long before she turned away.
Below, the sound of clashing steel continued, steady and unrelenting, long after she disappeared from view.
—
The first time they spoke, it was by accident.
Not in the courtyard, but along the narrow path that cut between the training grounds and the inner gardens. The stone there was worn down, edges softened by years of passing footsteps. The area was quieter than the rest of the castle.
One day, Teto had been dismissed early. Her arms still ached, that dull kind of soreness didn’t go away no matter how much she shook it out. She carried her sword at her side. There were faint marks along the blade where it had been struck too many times in the same place.
She was halfway down the path before she realized someone was standing ahead.
White, clean fabric. Untouched by dust. Teto immediately recognized her.
She stopped a step too late, boots scraping lightly against the stone as she caught herself.
The girl turned.
The light caught in her hair, her expression was calm and serene, eyes bright. Her robes cascaded along with the wind. She was a little taller than Teto, but she knew they were the same age. Ten years old.
“You’re the one from the courtyard,” she said.
Teto straightened immediately. “Yes, Your Highness,” she said, quickly. She was awestruck at the fact the princess knew her.
The princess studied her. It made Teto suddenly aware of everything she hadn’t bothered to fix. The dirt along her sleeves, the way her grip hadn’t fully relaxed around the hilt at her side.
“You improved.”
Teto blinked. “I…” She looked away. “Lost.”
“That’s not the same, silly.”
It wasn’t said like reassurance. It wasn’t said like she was obligated to, to make Teto feel better, to force her to keep going.
The wind shifted between them, carrying the faint scent of grass from the gardens. Somewhere farther in the castle, a bell rang, distant and slow.
The princess stepped a little closer.
“I’m Miku,” she said, like it wasn’t already obvious.
Teto hesitated, then nodded once. “...Kasane Teto.”
Saying it like that—without a rank, without anything attached to it—felt strange.
“Come, walk with me.”
Teto didn’t question it. She followed.
—
Summer crept in, softening the grounds, threading green through the edges of stone. The chamber was quiet, the sound didn’t echo. The floor was smooth stone, along one side, a table held several weapons—short blades, laid out in a neat row. Next to it was a jar of water, filled to the very brim.
Miku stood in front of them. Her instructor moved slowly across the room, hands folded behind his back.
“Magic is not something given to a few,” he said. “Everyone is born with it. A gift from the gods.”
Miku listened, her attention fixed on the weapons out for her.
“But most never learn to hold it properly.” He lifted a hand, moving it lightly through the air. “It slips. Breaks. Fades before it can take shape.” He paused near the table, resting his hand against it. “Those with stronger lineage to it tend to have an easier time.”
Miku reached for one of the blades. It fit easily in her hand.
Her instructor stepped back, giving her space. “Study that weapon, you’re going to need to replicate it with this.” He pointed over to the water jar. “You’ve already learned to sustain a note. Now you need to give it purpose and shape it into something that remains.”
Miku nodded. She drew in a breath, steady and controlled. Her shoulders stayed relaxed as she exhaled, her voice following without force. The note settled, rippling across the water. For a while, nothing changed.
Then a small bead of water lifted from the jar.
It hovered, wavering slightly, before another followed, then another. They gathered together slowly, pulling upwards as if drawn by something unseen. The shape was uneven at first, shifting and collapsing in on itself.
Miku adjusted her pitch, until the form became recognizable.
The water stretched, narrowing, lengthening into something closer to the blade she held. The edges smoothed out, the form sharpening as she held the note steady.
Near the end of her breath, it faltered. She corrected it quickly. The blade remained suspended in the air, its surface smooth, almost solid despite the way it caught the light.
“...Good,” her instructor said, stepping closer. “You maintained it long enough.”
Miku turned her head around. “It stays?”
“For a time,” he replied. “Longer, if your control improves.”
Across the room, several training dummies had been set in place. Worn from repeated use, their surface was marked by cuts and punctures that overlapped each other.
“Apply it.” Her instructor clasped his hands behind his back again. “Before it collapses back.”
Miku turned back. She raised her hand slightly, her focus narrowing. The blade shifted in response, lifting higher as she guided it forward. It wavered once, then steadied, following the movement of her hand. She pushed forward.
The water blade shot ahead and struck the dummy, cutting deeper than it would have if she had thrown a normal knife.
Miku exhaled quietly, her hand lowering. The blade took back the form of water and it dampened the dummies’ surface from where it was impaled.
—
Teto noticed her before she reached the path. Miku stood near one of the rows of flowers, just off to the side, looking down at them. She wasn’t doing much. Just standing there, one hand lightly brushing over the petals.
Teto slowed. For a moment, she thought about turning around and going the other way. Her steps quieted as she got closer, she stopped a few feet away, not sure if she should say anything first.
Miku looked up and smiled. “You came back.”
Teto looked away. “...I walk here sometimes.”
Miku nodded, like that was enough. She crouched down, her attention returning to the flowers.
Teto glanced at them. Rows of them, all planted nearby, all looking mostly the same. Some did look prettier than others, though. “What are you doing?”
“These were planted recently,” Miku said. “They’re not fully grown yet.”
Teto stepped a little closer, careful not to get too close to the princess. “They all look the same.”
“They’re not!” Miku pointed to one, then another. “This one means gratitude. That one’s for remembrance.”
Teto frowned a little, looking between them. “They just look like normal old flowers.”
Miku smiled slightly. “That’s the point. They’re like… hidden messages!”
Teto didn’t really get it, but she nodded anyway. She crouched down a bit, resting her arms on her knees as she looked closer.
“So if you give someone one of these,” she said, “it means something?”
Miku nodded.
Teto reached out, and brushed her hand on one of the petals, like Miku had done.
They stayed there a little longer, in a comfortable silence.
After that, it became a habit. They didn’t arrange anything, it just happened. Teto would wrap up her training early, or find an excuse to leave, and Miku would already be there at the gardens—or arrive not long after.
They walked most of the time.
Miku talked about small things—lessons, things she had to memorize, things she didn’t care about but had to learn anyway because of her status. Teto listened, answering when she needed to.
When Teto talked, it was usually about training, how she’s training to become a knight. What she messed up, what she almost got right. Miku always listened and encouraged her, she never made it feel like it didn’t matter.
One afternoon, Miku stopped near the edge of the garden and didn’t keep walking.
Teto slowed beside her. “What’s wrong?”
Miku didn’t answer right away. She stepped off the path slightly, toward a small open space. “Watch,” she said.
She held her hand out slightly and took a breath. When she exhaled, her voice followed. The surface of a nearby water basin shifted. A small amount of water lifted from it, pulling upward in a thin stream before gathering together. It didn’t hold its shape at first, almost falling apart.
Miku adjusted the note and the shape steadied. It took the form of a blade, like the one she has been training to create.
Teto stared at it, wide-eyed. “That’s—”
Miku moved her hand forward. The water blade followed, shooting ahead and striking one of the nearby wooden posts before losing shape and spilling down the surface. Miku purposely didn’t make it strong enough to cut it down.
“You can just do that?” Teto asked, astonished.
Miku lowered her hand. “Sometimes!” She stuck her tongue out. “I wanted to show off, hehe!”
Teto laughed softly, covering her mouth shyly.
—
Miku had brought a flower with her.
It was small, nothing too noticeable. She held it for a while before saying anything, turning it between her fingers like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was a pink rose, Miku had been personally growing a few in a different part of the garden.
She could hear the footsteps of someone walking near, who she knew would be Teto. She took a deep breath as the footsteps stopped. Miku held the flower out.
Teto looked at it, unknowingly. “It’s beautiful. What does this one mean?”
“It’s… for admiration.”
Teto smiled, not realizing the intent of it, “Is it for me?” She took it and looked at it warmly. “Thank you.”
One day, what they had crossed into something else.
They stopped near a small fountain that was in the center of the gardens. Miku had been talking, something about one of the flowers she would like planted, but Teto wasn’t listening anymore.
She was watching her instead.
Teto leaned in before she thought about it.
The kiss was quick.
She pulled back immediately, her face red and expression horrified. “S-sorry!”
Miku shook her head right away. “Don’t.” Her voice was softer than usual, her hand caressing Teto’s.
Since then, it didn’t stop. A quick kiss before they separated. Hands brushing and not pulling away. Miku bringing flowers more often now. Teto had always kept them, staring longingly at her gifts every night.
—
The garden was quieter than usual today. The wind barely moved, the sun beating down harder than it did before. Teto arrived first this time. She didn’t have training today because her instructor was busy with something else, so she came without rushing.
She sat down on a stone bench, waiting for Miku’s arrival. She watched humming-birds pass by, hovering near flowers before flying somewhere else.
“You’re early.”
Teto looked up and gave a small wave.
Miku didn’t sit right away. Instead, she stood at the path, looking out at the rows of plants like she was thinking about something else entirely.
Teto noticed it. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Miku didn’t answer, she walked over and sat down beside her. The two of them didn’t say anything.
Eventually, Miku responded. “When we’re older,” she said, “I’m going to be married off.”
“What?”
“It’s already been decided since I was younger,” Miku continued, like she was saying something she’d already accepted. “You know I can’t be with you.”
Teto stared at her. “Who will you get married to?”
Miku looked at her hands. “Megurine Luka.”
The name didn’t mean much to Teto at first. Just another royal, probably. Someone from another kingdom.
Miku kept talking anyway, quieter now. “It’s not something I get to choose. It’s for alliances. Stability.”
Teto’s expression became downcast, though she tried to hide it. “Do you want that?”
“...No,” she said finally.
Silence followed after that.
Teto didn’t know what to do with it. It sat differently than other silences they’d had before.
Miku shifted closer without looking at her. “It won’t be for a while,” she added, like that helped.
Quieter, Teto asked, “Does she… want it?”
Miku shook her head slightly. “I don’t think so. I met her once, she doesn’t like it either.”
Teto nodded. She reached out for Miku’s hand. “Will we still—”
“Yes.” Miku answered immediately.
Teto’s eyes widened before bursting into laughter. “You didn’t even hear what I had to say!”
Miku brought her hand up to Teto’s face, caressing it gently. “It’s pretty obvious what you were going to ask, dearest.”
—
The armor felt heavier than it used to.
Teto had become a young adult, and was finally knighted. Miku celebrated her accomplishment with flowers and lots of kisses and praise. All of it made Teto blush, she really still hasn’t gotten used to it. Being beloved by the princess of Crypton. (Of course when Miku had also turned the same age, Teto basked her with all the love in the world as well, it’s just that she never knew how to react being at the receiving end!)
She adjusted the strap across her chest, the leather worn in where it had been pulled tight too many times. Smaller knives rested along it, each one secured in place. At her waist, a pouch sat against her hip, tied to a leather strap that acted like a belt. The black plating along her arms caught the light in uneven edges, angular more than smooth, with a red cape wrapped around her shoulders and trailing behind her, frayed at the ends. The helmet she wore covered her face, the visor closed, black matching with the rest of the plating.
It was night. The moon sat high, full enough to cast light across the fields. The air was cool, settling against them.
The outskirts of the Kingdom of Crypton didn’t look much different at first glance. The land stretched outward in uneven fields, patches of tall grass broken by dirt paths worn down by carts and passing feet. A treeline sat further ahead, dense and dark. No one had come this far out in days.
That’s why the knights were here. Teto stood with the others, the ground felt wrong under her boots. Tracks had been found earlier, larger than any normal wolf, deeper like something heavier had been dragging itself through the area.
No one spoke loudly. Orders moved quietly down the line, enough to be heard.
The trees moved. Not because of the wind.
A shape broke from the treeline and didn’t slow.
It was a wolf–but not exactly. Its body was too large, its claws were long and sharp, its teeth large and ferocious. It was as big as a man. The eyes were like coal, and its fur was uneven, almost bristling outward. More wolves appeared, slightly smaller than the first, all looking identical.
“Hold formation.”
Teto’s hand rested on her sword. She didn’t draw it yet.
The first wolf lunged.
Steel moved all at once, the front catching the impact before it could break through. Teto stepped forward with them, drawing her blade in one motion, the familiar weight settling into her grip.
One broke off from the clash and came at her from the side.
She turned just as it closed the distance, her blade intercepting it before its jaws could reach her. The force of it hit harder than expected, pushing into her guard, claws scraping along the plating of her arm.
She shifted her footing, her blade cut along its side. It wasn’t clean enough to drop it, but enough to slow it. It twisted, snapping back toward her.
Quickly, she struck again, deeper and deeper. The wolf collapsed against the ground, its movement stopping at once. Teto didn’t watch, another had already closed in.
This one circled first, faster than the last. It waited, steps uneven.
Teto adjusted her stance, blade angled.
It moved, but she moved faster.
Her strike met it mid-step, throwing off its rhythm before it could react properly. It twisted under the impact, claws scraping against the ground as it tried to recover.
She didn’t give it time. A second strike, cleaner this time. It finally dropped.
Around her, the fight spread outward. The wolves weren’t breaking the line, but they weren’t falling easily either. They moved in bursts, testing openings.
One broke through, heading toward the rear where the formation thinned. Teto moved without thinking.
Her steps were faster now, the weight of her armor no longer something she noticed. The cape pulled behind her as she closed the distance, the wolf already about to attack someone who hasn’t turned yet.
Her blade cut across its path, stopping before the wolf could land. The impact jarred through her arm, but she pushed through, turning the motion into a follow-through that drove it back.
It tried to rise again, but her attack must’ve ended it because it didn’t try getting up again.
The remaining wolves pulled back, seeing their numbers have drastically decreased. Slipping back toward the treeline the same way they had come, fast and low.
The field went quiet.
“Hold.” The commander was heard, but Teto couldn’t tell from where he stood.
She lowered her blade slightly, her breathing muffled from behind the helmet. She glanced toward the treeline, watching for movement that didn’t come. After a moment, she wiped the blade clean with a single movement, the blood coming right off. She noticed she herself was covered in blood, which just made her sigh.
A knight approached her. “You broke formation.”
Teto nodded once. “Yes. I did.”
The knight bowed slightly. “You saved my life.. You prevented a breach. You have my gratitude.” That was all he said before moving on.
The tension eased in pieces.
A few knights let out quiet laughs, someone mentioned drinks, another answered to that, louder this time. The idea spread quickly after that. The commander said something about a tavern in the lower district, it was enough to get a few of them moving.
“I’m glad we didn’t call the mages,” someone muttered nearby. “Would’ve slowed us down more than helped.”
Teto glanced up at that. She didn’t say anything.
Her grip tightened against her side before easing again. The thought came uninvited, but Teto didn’t mind. Miku. Where she might be at this hour. Whether she was still awake.
The others had already started heading back, voiced carrying ahead of them. Teto followed after a moment, falling into step behind them.
The tavern was louder than it should have been for that hour. Warm light spilled out from hanging lanterns, catching along the edges of mugs and armor alike. The air was thick with the smell of ale and something cooked too long over the fire.
Voices overlapped, rising and falling without much structure, laughter breaking through more often now that the tension had worn off.
Teto sat among them. Her helmet was gone, set off to the side, her hair slightly out of place. Her hair in the shape of drills was messy but she decided to fix that later. The armor remained on her body, like everyone else inside.
A mug had been pushed into her hand at some point. She hadn’t taken more than a sip.
Across the table, the same knight from earlier stood, already a little unsteady and tipsy but holding himself upright well enough. He raised his mug, tapping it lightly against the wood to get attention.
“Kasane!” he called out, voice carrying throughout the tavern.
A few others turned. Teto glanced up, caught off guard.
“She broke formation,” he continued, a faint smile pulling at the edge of it, “and I’d be dead if she hadn’t!”
That got more of their attention. Someone laughed. Another raised their mug.
“To Kasane!”
The words caught on quickly, repeated, louder this time. Everyone inside began chanting her name.
Teto shook her head slightly, a small, embarrassed smile slipping through before she could stop it. “It wasn’t—”
“Don’t,” someone cut in, not unkindly. “Just accept it.”
A few mugs lifted toward her. She hesitated, then raised her own just slightly in return. “Thank you,” she said quieter than the rest. Everyone roared in applause, the moment moved on as quickly as it had come.
Conversations breaking back apart into smaller pieces. Someone started telling stories of the fight that just occurred, already changing parts to sound more heroic. Laughter followed.
Teto leaned back slightly in her seat, letting the noise settle around her instead of into her.
Her gaze drifted toward the window.
She set the mug down and grabbed her helmet. No one stopped her when she stood, most didn’t even notice, too busy drowning themselves in joy.
The door opened with a soft shift of air, the noise dulling the moment it closed behind her. Outside, it was much easier to breathe.
The walk back toward the palace was familiar. The streets had emptied, lanterns still lit along the paths but dimmer now, most of the city already settled in for the night.
The path she took curved around the side, where the walls were less watched, where she had learned where to step and where not to.
By the time she reached the outer edge of the palace, the noise of the city had fallen behind her.
Miku’s balcony wasn’t hard to find. It never was.
Teto paused just below it, glancing up once. A faint light still burned inside.
She reached up and grabbed the jagged stones, pulling herself up before grabbing onto the balcony’s stone railings. She brought herself up with as little noise as she possibly could, her armored boots landed softly against the stone.
Teto realized she probably looked like a mess, but knowing Miku, she wouldn’t mind it. She straightened herself up. She stopped just short of the doors, she reached up and tapped lightly against the glass.
Nothing happened until she could see movement, a shadow crossed the light, pausing before drawing closer. The curtains opened and Teto could see Miku on the other side.
Her hair was undone, not in her usual twintails, falling looser than it usually did during the day. The sleeves of her night gown rolled just enough to keep them from getting in the way. She opened the door and closed it behind her.
“You’re back.”
Teto nodded, a little too eagerly. Realizing that, she looked away.
Miku stepped forward and closed the distance between them without hesitation, her hands coming up to rest against Teto’s armor, then higher, brushing along where metal met skin.
“It’s kind of late,” she said quietly.
Teto let out a small breath. “The rest wanted to go celebrate.”
Miku’s gaze moved over her, slower now. The armor. The marks along it, the blood stained on the edges.
“You’re hurt?” Miku asked, worry painted all over her face.
“No.”
“Liar.” Miku said tugging at Teto’s cape that draped over her.
Teto shook her head slightly. “It’s not mine, dear.”
Miku paused at that, her fingers stilling where they rested. Then she exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders just enough. “Good!”
Her hand lifted again, this time more carefully, brushing along Teto’s cheek. Teto leaned into it without thinking. “I hope you weren’t too reckless out there.”
“You sound like my instructor.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
The night air moved between them, the breeze nice and cool. Miku glanced past her briefly toward the distant lights then back again. “They’ll notice if you’re gone for too long.”
“They didn’t notice when I left.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t.”
Teto shrugged slightly. “Then I’ll be faster next time.”
Miku gave her a look at that, but it didn’t last. “You came straight here,” she said quietly.
Teto didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
Miku gave a soft sigh. “You always do that.” There wasn’t any real frustration in it.
“Do you not like it?” She asked.
Miku fidgeted with her hands. “I worry. I worry that you’ll get caught.”
That settled between them. Teto’s expression changed slightly, something less certain than before. “I’ll be fine.”
Miku’s hand caught Teto’s wrist, she held it there, like she didn’t want to let go just yet. “Just don’t make it too much of a habit.”
Teto smiled gently, the moon’s light reflecting off her eyes. “No promises.”
Miku laughed softly. “Come here.”
Teto didn’t need to be told twice. The space between them disappeared easily. Miku leaned in first, a soft kiss, it wasn’t rushed like most of theirs. When they pulled back, neither of them moved far.
Miku rested her forehead lightly against Teto’s, her voice quieter now. “Seriously, some day you’re going to be the death of me.”