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Standing next to the Shogun never gets any less intoxicating.

The Tenshukaku is gorgeous in summer, with the everblooming sakura trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and the billowing purple banners of the Shogun. The sky is cloudless; it’s a most perfect night for a festival.

This festival in particular is quite special: it is the first festival of the season, and as per tradition, the Shogun will be watching the firework display personally, from the highest balcony of the Tenshukaku, surrounded by her closest servants.

Yes; it truly never gets any less intoxicating, standing so close to the almighty Raiden Shogun. Even after years, Sara still feels the enticing, magnetic pull of her. She steals glances while they wait, takes in the gorgeous shine of her hair (loose for the celebrations), the white flowers entwined in it, and feels a rush of emotion, too fierce to name. She’s glad to be here, by the Shogun’s side, close enough to see the night sky reflected in her eyes. It is the highest honor Sara has received.

A hissing sound draws her attention. Oh — the fireworks show is beginning. A lone firework lights up the sky, a humble introduction, followed by a moment of silence as the sparks die out, before the show begins in earnest. 

Sara doesn’t particularly care for festivals — she prefers to spend them by the Shogun’s side, observing from afar, enjoying the gleam of fireworks in her Archon’s eyes. But even Sara has heard that this is the debut show of the new owner of Naganohara Fireworks.

 The fireworks turn the sky (and the Shogun’s eyes) different colors, purple and pink and yellow and blue, colors Sara doesn’t care for unless they’re painting her Archon’s face. She’s content with missing the show, as long as she can watch the Shogun enjoy herself.

But there is a pause before the grand finale, so poignant it has even Sara looking away from the Shogun and up to the sky, a pause so abrupt and gripping it feels like the entirety of Inazuma is holding their breath, before the final display shoots up into the sky in a purple flash.

For a brief moment, the Shogun’s emblem stays suspended in the night sky, beautiful, brilliant, dazzling, and Sara is captivated. She takes it in hungrily, the mesmerizing beauty spread across the firmament, filling the entirety of her vision, the vision of every who’s looking up right now. She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. She thinks she feels close to eternity. 

But it’s over all too soon. The symbol of the mighty Shogun’s will falls apart, into a thousand tiny sparkles that tumble downwards before petering out mid-air.

It leaves Sara feeling disoriented. A dizziness overtakes her as she realizes what had just transpired. Such foolishness, she thinks, such trickery. To think that the Raiden Shogun’s might could ever be captured in something so transient as fireworks. She berates herself for ever falling for them.

Despite herself, fireworks keep drawing Sara’s eyes whenever she’s around the city during a festival. She hears tell of the mind and hands behind the fireworks — a young girl named Naganohara Yoimiya, well known and well loved by everyone in Hanamizaka and beyond, skilled with a bow. 

The last part catches Sara’s attention, as involuntarily as her fireworks, and just as fiercely. 

She wants to seek her out; see the one that’s the talk of the town, see her skill with a bow, with her fireworks.

She doesn’t. It is a fool’s wish. 

The next time a festival rolls around, Sara keeps her eyes on the Shogun’s.

With the introduction of the Vision Hunt Decree, Sara spends less time by the Shogun’s side in the city.

The Vision Hunt combined with the newly formed resistance forces mean Sara is on the front lines most of the time, coming back to the city only to report to the Shogun in set intervals, before rushing back to her soldiers.

She’s quickly striding through the streets right now, the people of Hanamizaka giving her wary looks. Sara has grown used to the contempt. She dislikes the disobedience, the misunderstanding and hostility that  the order of the Shogun has met with. The resistance.

She would gladly give up her Vision for the cause, should have been one of the first ones to do so, but she hasn’t been permitted yet.

As such, she cannot help the ugly feelings of envy she experiences each time she carries out her duty. The people whose Visions she’s confiscated don’t understand what great honor they’re receiving — they are directly partaking in the Shogun’s quest for eternity. Something that has always been Sara’s goal as well, except now she’s been ordered to hold onto her own Vision while she forces reluctant Vision holders to part with theirs.

Sara is distracted by her — admittedly childish and largely useless — thoughts. So distracted, in fact, that she completely forgets to avoid Naganohara Fireworks like the plague, and she stumbles right into the owner herself.

She knows it’s her immediately: her clothes, her twinkling hair ornaments, the Pyro Vision tied at her waist. A warm energy that seems to reach out and envelop everyone around her. Eyes lined with red and a mouth that’s slightly parted in surprise.

Sara needs to get back to Kannazuka immediately.

She thinks of all the Vision holders she’s encountered in the recent weeks, the enmity in their eyes, or worse, the desperation, the pleading, and she abruptly doesn’t want to see Yoimiya — Naganohara-san — like that. She wouldn’t be able to bear it, for reasons she doesn’t allow herself to think about.

 But Yoimiya — despite the Vision at her waist, which glints in the setting sun and keeps drawing Sara’s eyes just like her fireworks do — beams at her, a genuinely friendly smile without an ounce of malice to it. Sara feels scrambled like an egg.

Yoimiya glows in the sun the same way her fireworks do in the night sky.

“General! Good evening. Are you here to visit our humble shop?” she says, in a silly mischievous tone.

Sara feels caught, almost guilty, even though she isn’t here to visit Naganohara Fireworks. She is very much here to report to the Shogun, and she informs Yoimiya about it, straightening up as she does, into her General of the Tenryou Commission posture. Despite the situation — the main Vision Hunt Decree enforcer standing right in front of a Vision holder — Yoimiya seems entirely unconcerned, even at ease.

Sara has to tear her eyes away from the relaxed lines of her body. The thing is, Yoimiya isn’t in danger. Her Vision hasn’t been deemed to be needed just yet. The Shogun is fond of her firework shows, and believes she could be a great asset in swaying the public to their side, with propaganda woven through firework sparks and dazzling displays accompanying public speeches of the enforcers. But Yoimiya couldn’t be aware of that. Sara hadn’t had the time to speak about it with her just yet.

Just like that, Sara realizes she has a reason to speak with her now, and the knowledge — the rare occassion of having a conversation topic ready at hand! — makes her feel more at ease right away.

“Naganohara-san. The Shogun has a proposition for you. I would like to discuss it on the Shogun’s behalf, if you would be so inclined to hear me out,” she says, formal.

“Of course, General,” Yoimiya agrees. Of course, one does not easily reject the mighty Shogun herself when she asks for something.

Still, she is an enigma. She doesn’t seem scared, but surely she must feel the same as all the Vision holders do when they’re standing before Kujou Sara of the Tenryou Commission?

 Yoimiya continues, “Would you like to discuss the matter inside the shop?”

 Sara would love to look around her shop. Which is why they cannot hold this conversation there, not today and not any other day. “My apologies, Naganohara-san, but I am needed at Kannazuka at the moment. This matter isn’t yet a pressing one. I will find you when the time is suitable for both of us.”

Yoimiya agrees, and they both return to their tasks, their interaction as clean-cut and brief as that.

Sara hurries back to the camp. Tries not to think about her too much.

She ends up thinking about her at the camp.

It’s inevitable, really. Yoimiya’s first fireworks show stayed with her in clearer detail than she’d like to admit; it follows that the author herself, now that Sara finally has a face to the name, should stay with her in much the same way.

She allows herself a small corner of her mind where she thinks of Yoimiya and wonders about her archery skill when she’s practicing at the training grounds.

She thinks of her gloved bow hand as she’s taking off her own gloves at night to sleep.

As she settles on her bedroll, she allows herself to think about how she was so much shorter than Sara, a full head between them. She thinks about the delicate lines of her neck as she had to tilt her head up to see eye to eye with her, her exposed collarbones, the butterfly in the hollow of her throat, the white of her sarashi against her skin.

And as she falls asleep, she thinks about her Vision catching the sunlight, and she imagines touching it.

A good while passes before Sara gets to visit Narukami again — and this time, she is there for Naganohara Fireworks.

She’s speaking with Yoimiya’s father. He seems to be bad with hearing — surely the fault of a lifetime spent working with explosives. How utterly ironic, that the fleeting nature of fireworks could leave such lasting effects.

He is a nice man, at any rate, and he offers to fetch Yoimiya from the shop. Sara feels as though it would be improper to enter, and so she stays outside, peering into crates filled with firework materials and products. 

There’s one with firework fountains in pretty colors. Sara has never had one, not as an adult, and most definitely not as a child, but she’s seen children in Hanamizaka and Konda playing with them, when she was out patrolling. Naganohara’s firework fountains are very popular. She politely averts her eyes, something about gawking at Yoimiya’s craft when she’s not around feeling somewhat wrong.

After a moment, the former owner of Naganohara Fireworks steps out again. There are no Yoimiyas in sight.

“I apologize, General,” he sighs. “She must have gone out to make a delivery to the commercial district.”

He seems distraught, and Sara hurriedly assures him that the information he’s given her is plenty.

“Have a good day, General,” he calls after her, as she turns to leave. There is worry in his voice.

Sara finds Yoimiya hanging upside down from someone’s roof.

Legs locked around a supporting beam, she affixes a windchime above the doorway with delicate fingers. The position causes the ornaments in her hair to hang down — heavy, Sara thinks. She prepares to dart forward at any moment, should the decoration fall.

She would be ready to catch Yoimiya as well, but the ease and confidence with which she is holding herself suggests that will not be necessary.

A woman eyes Sara uneasily. Clearly the owner of the house, she supervises Yoimiya’s work. At Sara’s arrival, she clutches at a tassel at her waist, warily shuffling away.

Sara has become familiar with this particular look of contempt in the past weeks. Someone dear to this woman was a Vision holder — and has lost their Vision, recently.

Yoimiya lets go of the windchime and hangs down from the roof like a ripe fruit. A smile creeps over her features as her eyes go straight to Sara. It makes breathing difficult, all of a sudden.

“General! What a pleasure!” Yoimiya sounds geniune.

Sara’s ears burn. This has to be the first time in weeks someone thought her presence anything but unwelcome. “Naganohara-san,” she nods.

Yoimiya disentagles herself from the roof and drops to the ground. The windchime lets loose a series of melodic clinks at her descent.

Yoimiya makes sure to bow to Sara properly, now that they are on even ground, before turning to the housewife. Sara continues to stand politely aside, purposefully avoiding any eavesdropping on her part, but she sees the woman press something into Yoimiya’s hands — Mora, most likely. She clasps her hands right after, her voice hushed but urgent, so low Sara wouldn’t be able to hear even if she tried, now, and she warily eyes Sara one last time. She startles when their gazes meet.

Sara doesn’t have to hear the words to know them. The woman is worried for Yoimiya. It doesn’t bode well, for a Vision holder to be approached by someone the likes of Kujou Sara.

Sara wrenches her eyes away. Trains them on the ground.

The conversation wraps up, the woman giving Yoimiya one last watery smile before she hurries inside. She doesn’t bow to Sara even once — something she could reprimand her for, ought to, even, but Sara cannot get the woman’s eyes out of her mind.

So sad and afraid.

She lets her be.

Focuses instead on Yoimiya, who beams up at her. “Were you looking for me?” she asks, head tilted to the side. Sara thinks of the cats that prowl Kannazuka, wonders at the similarity between them and Yoimiya.

She decides to feed the strays when she gets back tonight.

“Yes. Your father told me where to look for you.”

Yoimiya keeps smiling. She seems a lot more relaxed than the last time they met. “Yeah, I’m on delivery duty today!”

Sara hums in acknowledgement, desperately trying to come up with something that isn’t i know, your father told me, because she’s said that already. Celestia above, this never gets easier.

Sara decides she doesn’t want to jump straight to business, and would in fact like to hear a little more about Yoimiya’s work. There we go, she thinks. 

“Delivering what? Fireworks and windchimes?”

Yoimiya looks almost — surprised, at first, as if she’s not expecting Sara to know about her fireworks, as if they’re not such a disruptive force Sara has to make herself turn away everytime her craft is on display in the night sky, but the surprise quickly melts into delight.

“Yeah! Though I make other things, too.” She clasps her hands behind her back, bounces a little on her feet. “Toys, mainly. Hey, I’ll show you!”

Without warning, Yoimiya takes off down the street. Sara, bewildered, hurries to catch up with her.

There is a shadow of worry nagging at her. She’s worried about how it’ll look like, the Tenryou General chasing a Vision holder through the city in broad daylight—

But it’s alright. She catches up with Yoimiya easily. 

Yoimiya is crouching down at a street corner, one arm buried in a hydrangea bush as she attempts to fish something out of the leaves. She gives Sara a smile when she arrives, eyes crinkling, before she turns back to her puzzling task. Leaves continue to rustle.

“Aha!” she says triumphantly, pulling something out. “There you are,” she continues in a quieter tone, speaking to something cradled in her palms.

Sara leans over her shoulder, curious. The object in Yoimiya’s hands turns out to be a little mouse.

“This isn’t just any mouse,” Yoimiya announces, catching the poor thing by its tail and swinging it around in the air. Archons, Sara thinks.

Yoimiya sets the mouse on the ground, tapping it one, two, three times, and at the sound Sara understands this little creature must be one of Yoimiya’s toys.

More rustling comes out of the bush, the blooms swaying as if in a breeze, and then, out hops a tiny kitten. It goes straight after the mouse, paw darting forward to push the toy into motion. It must have wheels on its underside, because the mouse glides easily on the cobblestones, the kitten happily chasing after it, as if it were live prey.

Archons, Sara thinks again. She feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to bury her face in her hands.

Yoimiya watches over the scene with warm eyes. Sara startles when she looks up and those warm eyes get trained on silly old Sara, of all things to see here.

“I do cat toys, too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret she’s letting Sara in on.

Sara doesn’t burst into tears on the spot, but it’s a near thing.

“Do you want to pet her?” Yoimiya offers, and yeah, Sara kind of does, in truth. 

“Come on, she won’t bite!” Yoimiya urges her, and there is something that is just so addictive about her childlike excitement that Sara lets herself get swept up. Crouches down next to her, too-long white sleeves be damned, and reaches out.

It turns out Yoimiya makes many different kinds of toys, and she is very happy to tell Sara all about her work in great detail.

Sara enjoys listening to her talk. It’s easy. Yoimiya is easy to listen to, her enthusiasm is contagious, and she doesn’t appear to require complicated responses to spur her on, which is something Sara struggles with on her best days. Yoimiya is content with talking, and Sara is more than content with listening.

Yoimiya points out houses with windchimes and banners that she made as they make their way down to Hanamizaka, tells Sara about the Onikabuto chariots she’s been working on lately, explains the process of making temari balls.

They have just entered into Hanamizaka when Yoimiya abruptly pauses, eyes glued to the old watermill. Sara follows her gaze; a bright purple flying disc appears to be stuck on the roof.

“Oh my,” Yoimiya sighs. “That’s You-chan’s!”

She brightens up right away, though, with a mischievous smile on her face. “Well, this is perfect timing! Follow me, General!”

Yoimiya doesn’t seem to think twice about issuing orders to the highest ranking officer of the Shogunate Army, but Sara doesn’t mind following them. She keeps up with Yoimiya as she approaches the building.

Then, Yoimiya does the unthinkable: she begins to climb, hands seeking purchase on the outer wall, feet propped on a windowsill. She looks over her shoulder for a brief moment. “Come on! The view from up there is unbelievable.”

“Ah.” Sara hovers awkwardly at the side, unsure of her next course of action. “The owners allow this?”

Yoimiya continues her ascent, nimble as a squirrel. “General, please,” Yoimiya dismisses, but Sara notes that she doesn’t refute it. She continues onwards, pulling herself over the ledge and disappearing from sight.

Sevens, Sara thinks, she’s come this far. Might as well see the view from top of the famed Hanamizaka watermill.

The view, as it turns out, is indeed extraordinary, especially with the sinking sun dyeing the sea in its colors. Yoimiya offers her a bright smile as she rescues the toy from the edge of the rooftop. 

She stands up, disc tucked under one arm. Her hands come dangerously close to her Vision as she dusts off her clothes, and Sara miserably zeroes in on it. Yoimiya doesn’t touch it, she notices. Her mouth is very dry. She looks away.

Yoimiya joins Sara on her side of the roof and settles down comfortably, as though she’s done this a thousand times. She pats the spot next to her and Sara decides to join her. Her uniform spills over the both of them, almost embarrassingly voluminous.

“I like coming here,” Yoimiya tells her, quiet, as though she wants to avoid spooking the sunset. “Sometimes I come here at night and try to come up with new ideas for my work. Like that Onikabuto chariot that I still can’t get right.”

A small, almost private smile, a gentle shake of her head, as if she’s chasing the moment away. She turns to face Sara fully. “So, General, what is her Excellency’s proposition?”

Oh. Of course. The main reason Sara seeked her out. She straightens up, as the formality of the situation demands. “The Shogun would like to secure a partnership with Naganohara Fireworks. We’re talking exclusive rights to commission fireworks to accompany whatever events, both public and private, she may organize in the future.”

“The Shogun, huh,” Yoimiya muses, but whatever thoughts she might have, she keeps them to herself, and shakes Sara’s hand in agreement.

In troubled times, Sara likes to visit the Sacred Sakura tree.

 It is late at night, and yet the shrine maidens welcome her, as if it were the middle of the day. The atmosphere of the shrine reflects the time, even if the maidens’ actions do not: it is quiet, a hush thrown over the world like a heavy blanket. Insects’ buzzing is quieter. Sakura petals fall soundlessly.

 Sara makes the climb unhurriedly. Her geta click softly on the stone. Candles light her path.

Sara enjoys the solitude that the night offers. It is for that reason that she comes to the Sacred Sakura in the moonlight. Standing beneath its benevolent branches, breathing in the cool air, she feels her mind calm as easily as water in a cup once you stop stirring.

Falling blossoms catch in her hair and on her uniform as Sara breathes deeply, a momentary peace in the summer night.

But then an unmistakeable whizz can be heard, even if it’s faint, and Sara’s trecherous eyes fly open. Her heart rate quickens, against her will, and she watches, from far above, as Yoimiya’s fireworks explode over the city. The display is every bit as gorgeous as her last one, and the one before, and the one before that.

All the way from the Grand Shrine, the fireworks seem tiny, as faint and meaningless as they ought to be. As Sara ought to find them.

And yet, for once, instead of closing her eyes in reverence, she stands with them open wide, and takes in Yoimiya’s show.

Gulps down every last drop of every shape and color Yoimiya chose for this particular night, gaze not straying to the Tenshukaku even for a second.

The guilt settles in even as she’s watching, and still she cannot turn away.

Sara shouldn’t linger in Hanamizaka. She ought to get back to the Encampment after her check-in with the Shogun, ought to resume the documentation of confiscated Visions. She most certainly shouldn’t be lingering a stone’s throw from a certain well-loved establishment, pretending to inspect an advertisement board across the street. 

Just a little while more, she reasons. Just a few more minutes and then she’ll be on her way.

Her eyes slide over the advertisement over and over, not taking anything in. She doesn’t dare hope, doesn’t let herself think about it, but she wishes that—

The Archons must be on her side today, because just before she decides cut her losses and head back to her Waverider, someone stops right beside her.

As though magnetized, Sara can feel her molecules attuned to Yoimiya’s presence. She wonders if she’s imagining it, or if there really is a comforting, pleasant heat rolling in waves from her Vision.

“General! Hello!” Yoimiya greets, before peering down at the advertisement board. “Oh, are you hoping to get a new bow made?”

Sara hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to the advertisement. She didn’t even realize this was the smithy.

“I am considering it,” she answers.

A slow smile appears on Yoimiya’s face. Sara has noticed it before, the special way Yoimiya smiles – the way her mouth curves, and her cheeks round out, and her eyes close, the change over her face smooth and gradual, like each of her facial muscles is savoring the very act of smiling. Smiles bloom on Yoimiya’s face like ink bleeding through paper. Sara has never before paid such close attention to someone’s face.

“The Hanamizaka Smithy doesn’t disappoint, you know! I got a new bow commissioned here just recently.” She leans in, conspirationally: “In fact, I was just on my way for some archery training.”

That grabs Sara’s attention. She wonders what Yoimiya’s bow looks like, where her training takes place, how she looks when shooting. Has been wondering about that for a while.

A significant pause. Then, with a mischievous little grin: “Want to join?”

And Sara cannot help but wonder, who of the two of them is the more audacious one – Yoimiya, inviting the Tenryou General to train, or said Tenryou General, accepting the invitation despite the deepening shadows.

Yoimiya’s training ground, as luck would have it, isn’t very far at all. It isn’t much of a training ground, either, only a handful of handmade targets for shooting practice, scattered on a beach just below the shop.

Sara’s sandals sink into the sand. “Challenging terrain,” she comments.

It’s rather impressive, in truth. Practicing on the unsteady sand is no easy feat with any weapon, much less so with the bow, which requires precision and patience.

“Yup,” Yoimiya hums in response. She looks pleased with Sara’s remark as gets into position and summons her bow. Sara watches.

Yoimiya’s form is good.

Sara is relieved at that, in all honesty. She doesn’t think she would make it if she had to step close to her and correct her, the way she does with her subordinates.

Yoimiya seems content this way — showing off. It doesn’t look like she invited Sara because she was hoping for advice, but rather to put on a dazzling show: Yoimiya’s speciality.

She’s flashy. Light on her feet, flexible, pulling off moves Sara would never think of letting her soldiers attempt on the battlefield. Yoimiya is always in motion, twirling and turning and flying through the air.

It’s impractical, the Tenryou General part of her quips.

It’s really, really cool, the rest of her thinks, helplessly.

Yoimiya is fast. She moves in a way that’s almost ruthless, and yet — every single one of her arrows finds its target. She’s laser focused and precise even upside down in the air, landing sure and steady in the sand, not wavering for an instant.

By the Seven, Sara thinks, throat curiously parched.

Yoimiya’s final arrow ends up in the sand. A miscalculation mid-air, it would seem, and she lands in a crouch, breathing heavy. The last shot must bother her, because she doesn’t look all too satisfied despite the stunning performance she just put on. In the sinking sun, her Vision catches and draws the eye.

That’s it — it was like a performance. It’s not the standard Shogunate Army archery technique Sara is familiar with, it’s something flashy and new and, Celestia help them all, beautiful. Sara feels moved to tears.

But now Yoimiya’s getting up with an expectant look in her eyes, and Sara blinks back any moisture threatening to form on her face.

“What did you think?”

Sara thinks about the feedback she gives her soldiers. Adequate isn’t going to cut it here.

“Captivating,” she replies, tries to keep her voice even. The honesty feels like an admission of guilt.

This time, Yoimiya’s smile isn’t the slow, bleed-through one Sara has already memorized, but a different one, lightning fast, a smile that overtakes her face in an instant and leaves behind bunched up cheeks and scrunched eyes.

Sara has to look away.

“Up for a little competition, General?”

Sara is unused to having someone like Yoimiya in her life.

They see each other nearly every time Sara is in the city. Sometimes, all that happens is a wave and a smile from across the street; sometimes it’s a training session down at the beach; sometimes it’s Sara accompanying Yoimiya as she searches for a lost cat. She begins to consider her trips to Narukami the highlight of her week, despite the distraction from duty they pose.

It makes Sara giddy, which in turn makes her feel silly. But, she reasons, surely even generals are allowed to see other people. Surely even the highest ranking military commanders of the Shogun’s army are allowed to, on occassion, have fun.

Celestia knows she’s never had anything like this.

“General! Are you with us?” Yoimiya asks with a laugh, all crinkled eyes and ink smiles, as always. She’s crouched in the middle of a group of children, handing out sparklers.

It’s getting late; shadows are getting deep enough to swim in, and yet Sara chooses to stay at Narukami for a while longer.

Yoimiya seems to be finished with distributing the sparklers, because she claps once in excitement, before turning back to the crate with supplies. “Don’t think you’re going to be left out, General,” Yoimiya teases, from within the crate.

When she resurfaces, she’s holding two fountain fireworks.

Sara’s breath catches. The fireworks are obviously custom made for the two of them: one in Yoimiya’s warm oranges and reds, and one in Tengu red and deep violet.

They light them together, on the beach, surrounded by excited children, and this time, Sara understands. The beauty of fireworks isn’t diminished by their briefness; it is enhanced by it.

Good times seldom last long during wartime.

The Vision Hunt is in full swing and rapidly inscreasing in intensity. This happens in tandem with the Watatsumi Army’s escalating attacks. Sara is stumped with work, with training, with the Decree. 

In an attempt at decreasing resistance from citizens and quelling the budding unrest, the Tri-Commission decides on a new course of action — the Shogun appearing in public to personally give a motivational speech.

“It would be a great opportunity to explain to the public the benefits of the Mighty Shogun’s plan,” the Kanjou Commissioner explains. “The public is confused – they don’t have all the facts. They need to hear the truth from their Archon.”

As the main enforcers of the Decree, the Tenryou Commission is tasked with preparing the event and its venue.

As the Tenryou General and the Shogun’s right hand, Sara is tasked with securing Yoimiya’s cooperation.

The next time Sara visits Narukami, it is with scrolls of paper tucked under her arm. She feels vaguely uncomfortable as she spreads out the drawings in front of her, like she’s polluting the time that once used to be just theirs, like she’s using Yoimiya.

That’s not the case, however. They had agreed to this arrangment, all those weeks ago. And yet.

Yoimiya’s face shutters as she looks over the designs.

Her face is very expressive, usually. It tends to make Sara feel both at ease and unbalanced at once. Sara isn’t the greatest when it comes to reading people, but Yoimiya wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s always so full of emotions that they seem to spill out of her.

Sara likes it. It is unfamiliar, but welcome nonetheless. Yoimiya’s smiles are genuine and warm, easy to interpret. It’s the… motivation, however, the reasons for her smiles and her emotions that Sara finds so completely inscrutable. She is, at this point, no stranger to Yoimiya’s different smiles and laughs and faces, but still, she isn’t sure what they mean, or what causes them.

She’s never seen Yoimiya’s face quite so... empty before.

It is chilling. Sara cannot find a trace of her usual demeanor as she studies the commissioned designs. A gloved finger traces the page, follows the lines as surely as an arrow follows its path through the air. The Shogun’s emblem, the seven elements. Yoimiya lingers by the flame.

Sara’s eyes slide down to her waist, where her Vision hangs. Her mouth feels dry.

Yoimiya doesn’t smile her usual smile for the remainder of their meeting. She agrees to the proposal with a determined nod, promising to deliver the fireworks in time for the Shogun’s speech.

The meeting was successful. Sara wonders why it doesn’t feel like it at all.

Kannazuka is cold at night.

Sara is on her knees, carefully sorting through the Visions she has gathered that day. A simple wooden crate, holding so many dreams, ambitions, wishes. It is a dizzying feeling, to handle so many at once.

She holds each one gently, rotating it in what little moonlight slips in through her window. The Visions glint, pulsing with life and power. They are still active, though their light has dimmed somewhat.

She triple checks the Hydro Vision in her hands against the records in her ledger before she deposits it back in the crate and picks up a different one. Electro this time. The ledger tells her it belonged to a girl from Ritou, as young as seventeen, had probably received it only recently.

It is a curious sight, the way a Vision dims as it is separated from its owner. The Visions Sara is sorting through now are still gorgeous: power glittering in the gems, a sense of divine might emanating from the pile in almost palpable waves. And yet: Sara knows that they do not compare to the way they looked before they were handed over to her.

The more a person refused to follow the decreed orders, the more shocking was the change that came over the Vision when they inevitably submitted. In comparison to the life that was in them before, the Visions in the crate now seemed almost dull.

Sara has seen deactivated Visions, knows the changes that happen when its owner dies. There is a painful heap of deactivated Visions in the corner of her room. Three so far: two Cryo, one Electro. Sara remembers who they belonged to. Sara rememembers that they did not seem sick when she took their Visions.

Visions of the dead are empty. That is the intristic connection between a Vision and its owner — one cannot exist without the other.

Sara knows this. Sara knows a lot about Visions.

She puts the Electro Vision back in the crate and picks up a different one.

“The Shogun wants the Tenryou Commission to deliver the speech!”

Sara blinks, surprised, looking up from where she’s poring over weapon inventory. It is one thing for the Commission to prepare the event, but to deliver a speech that was supposed to be the Shogun’s?

“It will be of great benefit to the public if they hear the words from their own people,” adds the Kanjou Commissioner. “The Shogun is thinking of splitting up the speeches in order to get more enforcers on stage.” 

A moment passes. “She’d like you to speak on the matter of the Vision Hunt.”

“Sara,” Takayuki-san implores. “You are the perfect candidate. There is no better choice than the head enforcer of the Decree.”

Takayuki-san is right, of course. There is no better choice, barring the Mighty Shogun herself. 

Sara knows better than to question or, Celestia forbid, argue against divine orders.

She arranges plans to visit the Tenshukaku the following day, to meet with the Shogun’s advisors and obtain the script.

“Pretend they’re just a faceless crowd,” Takayuki-san had told her. “It will help with the nerves.”

Sara keeps his words in mind, but faced with the gathered mass of people, she finds that she cannot follow his advice. Sara cannot pretend she doesn’t see their faces. Just there, in the forefront, she recognizes the parents with a young daughter. Sara had  confiscated her Anemo Vision just a handful of weeks earlier.

Yoimiya isn’t in the crowd, but Sara knows she will be listening, not far away from the platform, ready to begin the firework show as soon as Sara finishes her speech.

She watches as Takayuki-san wraps up his own oration. Standing on the platform in the shade of a benevolent god, he addresses the gathered people. They fill the street all the way to the Tenshukaku’s entrance, pressed up close against one another. Takayuki-san is a powerful speaker; his voice booms above the heads of everyone present.

A good portion of the people present aren’t here for the speech, but rather for the firework show, Sara knows. Yet another reason Yoimiya has been employed in the Shogun’s service.

If you don’t count the fireworks, Takayuki-san’s speech is the main event. Sara is the grand finale, as the Kanjou Commissioner jokingly put it, and at first, she was grateful for the briefness of her script, but now, she feels an incredible pressure on her. Following Takayuki-san — and not disappointing in his wake — is as daunting task as any battle.

Ahead, Takayuki-san bows and steps to the side. Sara’s palms feel clammy. She clutches the script, the paper already bunched-up and damp with sweat, and takes the central stage.

“Citizens of Inazuma,” she begins. “It is a tremendous honor to address you today, on the precipice of greatness.”

She finds that high on the platform, she is far above the gathered people. It makes her breath comes a little easier, being able to pretend she is preaching to the sky instead of an enormous tide of people.

“On the Shogun’s behalf, allow me to congratulate and thank you for your sacrifices in the name of eternity. It is with great pride that we can share with you the incredible news — we, as a nation, are closer than ever to achieving that which has always been sought after and deemed impossible. 

“With each Vision inlaid upon the Omnipresent Statue,” — here she flourishes her hand, gesturing behind her at the unfurling stone wings already beginning to glow with the seven colors of the elements. She counts to five, allowing the audience a significant pause to take in the grandiosity of their actions.

“Citizens of Inazuma,” she repeats. “With each Vision offered to our Archon, we are one step closer. Eternity is near at hand. Inazuma shall rise, mightier than even Celestia!”

This last line feels sacrilegious, but the advisors insisted upon it, and the Shogun approved of the speech, so Sara figures she can say it without heavenly retribution.

Sara doesn’t consider herself the greatest at giving speeches. She’s good with orders on a battlefield, her voice resolute and clear, but public speaking is something entirely different. She has never thought of herself as someone able to boost morale with her words alone, preferring actions over speeches, so it is with surprise that she hears the gathered citizens cheer. 

Her eyes go back towards the people, leaving the clear sky behind. She notices the couple she’s recognized at the beginning, with the daughter, and by the Seven, the parents are cheering, passionate and animated where their daughter is impassive and quiet. Sara looks away.

It seems that the line about Celestia really got the people fired up, she thinks. The Shogun knows her subjects well.

Behind her: a whoosh. The fireworks are beginning, the grand finale for the Shogun’s speech. The crowd quiets down in anticipation.

Sara knows it is unbecoming of a public speaker to turn away from their audience, but she cannot help herself — she wishes to see Yoimiya’s fireworks for herself.

The fireworks feel as though they were prepared just for her, and even if that isn’t the case, even if they’re for the Shogun and the audience, Sara can pretend, greedily, that they’re for her, just for her, a reward for a riveting speech, a special Sara batch—

The show is gorgeous. Try as she might, she doesn’t see the Shogun’s emblem, the centerpiece, anywhere.

—which is why it feels so much like betrayal.

The Shogun is satisfied with the display, as is her team of advisors, who watched the show from the Tenshukaku.

Nobody senses anything amiss. The only one who knows the show hadn’t followed the agreed upon rules, at least when viewed from the city, was Sara. And Yoimiya, of course.

Why did you fool the Shogun? Sara wants to ask. She means, why did you fool me?

Something about the speech leaves a bad taste in her mouth, despite it being a resounding success. The speech managed to convince a good number of people of the importance of the Shogun’s plan, and at least for the moment, there doesn’t seem to be any danger of uprising. Most Vision holders Sara encounters these days aren’t quite as reluctant to part with their treasures as before, some even giving up their Visions willingly, dreams and ambitions delivered neatly to Sara’s doorstep.

She doesn’t seek out Yoimiya.

It’s not the first time Sara attempted to avoid thinking about her and her fireworks, but it is the first time she succeeds. She grows quite adept at pushing that particular firework show from her mind.

Sometimes, at night, her eyes catch on the burnt out firework fountain she’s kept as a memento in her room. The Naganohara Fireworks logo is faded and covered in soot. Sometimes, Sara reaches out, careful not to crumple the material, gentle, just enough to get a bit of ash on her fingers, and she thinks, maybe she misremembered. Maybe the Shogun’s emblem was there, and Sara just didn’t notice. 

The Shogun and her advisors certainly saw it, as they commented on the beautiful show when they offered Sara and Takayuki-san their congratulations.

But no. Sara knows. Sara is no stranger to memorizing Yoimiya’s firework shows, gulping down every last detail. The emblem wasn’t there that night, even if it could be seen from the Tenshukaku.

Sara rubs her fingers together, gloves discarded and fingers blackened. 

Sometimes, she thinks about reporting her. Her actions had been deliberately deceptive, and by omitting the centerpiece, she undermined the message of the speech. The emblem was important; it needed to be seen that night, by everyone gathered. It was important to have the Shogun’s might immortalized, if just for a few moments, to have it be the only thing people could see. Only then would the speech be truly successful.

Other nights, Sara wonders whether Yoimiya would hand over her Vision willingly. How it would feel in Sara’s hands, if she took off her gloves. 

Other nights, Sara wonders whether Yoimiya is an enemy of eternity, even if that places her on a different side than Sara.

Yoimiya is arrested on suspicion of hiding wanted Vision holders in her shop.

Sara is assigned to sweep the place along with a handful of officers. It is the first time she steps into the shop.

She doesn’t let herself think about the implications of Yoimiya’s actions. She has already fooled the Shogun once, and got away with it. This time, there is no way she would be so merciful. That Sara would be so merciful.

If they find any evidence of refugees, it will mean she’s working against the Decree, against the Shogun, against Inazuma, and worst of all, against Sara.

Shelves with toys line the walls. Toys Yoimiya told her about. She lets her subordinates move through the shop, frightened Naganohara-san standing outside, as she lifts a hand towards the shelves. Her gloved hand carresses the objects there. Plushies, carved figurines, decorative boxes, that Onikabuto chariot she must have finally finished the design of, windchimes.

She thinks about taking the gloves off.

A different windchime comes to mind, on a different day. A woman, in the upper district, and the wary look she gave Yoimiya.

Careful, she had meant. Be cautious of the Tenryou General.

She dreams about Visions, sometimes.

Her dreams swirl with colors and elemental reactions. She sees hands with bitten fingernails, shaking as they hand over their dreams. She sees the pile of dull empty gems, growing like mold in the corner of her room. She feels watched even in the comfort of her own head, in the clutches of sleep. An impossibly huge purple eye stands sentry over her as she kneels, Visions falling through her hands as though Sara’s form is no longer corporeal.

There is a commotion outside that causes her to wake. It is the middle of the night.

The guards look apologetic at the sight of her, but there is no need. She is grateful for the distraction.

Distraction that, as it turns out, is distinctly pyrotechnician-shaped.

Sara’s head spins. She hasn’t seen Yoimiya in weeks.

She feels a pang in her chest at the sight of her. She hadn’t allowed herself to visit her, though she is aware that she’s been released. She’s seen her often enough, in her dreams.

Yoimiya is as bright in the night as her fireworks. She stands at the side entrance of the camp, head held high, posture almost lazy, even though a group of soldiers has surrounded her.

Their eyes meet. Sara finds it difficult to breathe.

“General!” One of the soldiers shoulders his way towards Sara. The captain. She rips her gaze from Yoimiya’s. It’s difficult. Her head keeps spinning.

She knows what they’re asking for — orders to arrest her again. Sara doesn’t want Yoimiya arrested. She would let her walk into their camp a thousand times.

“I’ll deal with the matter personally,” she informs the captain. She hears herself speak as if she were underwater. “You are dismissed.”

Yoimiya catches her eyes again. Sara feels as though a thousand bugs are crawling up her bare skin. She can barely restrain herself from running towards her and yet she can barely make her legs move.

For a horrible, overpowering moment, all Sara can think about is getting her hands on Yoimiya’s Vision. She thinks about closing her hand over it, the warmth that would spread up her arm. She imagines taking off her gloves first, putting a bare hand on Yoimiya’s waist, feeling the heat of Pyro just licking her fingers from afar. The desire to touch is overwhelming.

The soldiers mill around them, casting glances back at their general. They’re reluctant to leave the entrance unguarded, but have no choice but to follow her orders.

The place empties. Yoimiya has a mischievous smile on her face. Sara feels dizzy with—hunger, with relief, with the familiarity of seeing Yoimiya’s smiles and not understanding the reasoning behind them.

She’s at Kannazuka in the middle of the night, narrowly avoiding arrest, and still.

Sara swallows. Makes herself move. She passes under the arch of the entrance: they’re on even ground now. Outside the camp. Beside each other.

Yoimiya tilts her head on the side. The ornaments in her hair tinkle with the movement and their shiny surface catches the moonlight, much like the crates filled with Visions, pushed to a corner in her room. “Thanks for rescuing me,” she says.

“You are trespassing.”

It’s miles and eons from what she wants to say.

Yoimiya grins at this, props a hand on her hip. Sara follows the movement with her eyes. Zeroes in on the Vision that is hanging there, still as delicious and fiery as ever. She’s handled many Pyro Visions over the last months, way more than a person should, and yet; she’s sure there hasn’t been a Pyro Vision that glowed as brightly as Yoimiya’s does.

“Now, General, how else am I supposed to get a hold of you? It’s been too long,” Yoimiya pouts in reply.

Sara shakes her head at that. Doesn’t she know? Doesn’t she realize? She’s not supposed to get a hold of her. She wants to step closer. She’s rooted to the spot.

Yoimiya isn’t. She moves forward, careful and slow, almost a question as she takes in Sara’s lack of reply.

Sara takes a step back, and regrets it.

Yoimiya pauses. Sara can’t stop looking at her. Even from the distance that still separates them, she can feel the perpetual warmth that always envelops her.

She wants to move closer. She doesn’t want to turn back, never back towards her room with its crate full of ambitions in one corner and a growing heap of death in the other.

When Yoimiya resumes her slow advance, she lets her. She allows herself to stay in one spot, to bask in the warmth as the distance between them shrinks. She allows herself to keep still as Yoimiya raises a hand to her face, a question in her eyes.

will you let me? yes, i will.

Yoimiya has to tilt her head up to look her in the eyes this close. Sara likes the view. The perspective makes her head seem so round, her cheeks so soft. She wants to reach out.

But she won’t allow herself that. No, it’s Yoimiya who touches her face, her cheek, cradling it, a thumb under her left eye, and Sara’s head feels like it’s going to explode any second now.

Yoimiya stands up on her toes and kisses her.

Sara feels as though trapped underwater. As though the spell rooting her to the spot was broken with a kiss, her hands shoot out immediately, going to Yoimiya’s waist. All she can think about is the Vision, how close close close to her hand it now is, how she could move her finger just a bit and touch it.

Yoimiya moves them backwards, a series of careful steps, until Sara’s leaning back against the stone walls of the camp, enveloped by shadows. It could remind her where they are. It could clear her head a little. It doesn’t.

Yoimiya’s so warm, so close. Her hands move from her face to her neck, the back of her head, combing through hair. Her mouth is everywhere. Sara screws her eyes shut. 

There is something horrible about this, Sara thinks, even as Yoimiya’s hands tangle in Sara’s hair, as they tug on her Tengu mask’s chain, as they trace her scalp. And even so, Sara thinks. There is something horrible about kissing a Vision holder.

And then it happens. In Sara’s dizzy state, perhaps her hand slips; perhaps Yoimiya moved just so; Sara’s hand meets Yoimiya’s Vision.

She has handled Pyro Visions before. A disproportionate amount of confiscated Visions since Yoimiya’s arrest has been Pyro, in fact. She has always been aware that they tend to run a little hot, even when separated from their owner, but Sara’s never touched one that still belonged.

She is entirely unprepared. The burst of heat is so powerful and searing it feels almost like a lightning strike. She feels it scorch her hand, burn through muscle and sinew, feels as though it singes her heart black. She tears away.

Yoimiya looks at her with huge eyes. In the dark, their gentle color seems to have been swallowed by black. Her breath is coming fast.

Sara has never felt more desperately, ravenously hungry. She makes herself stumble back to the camp, disheveled and flushed as she is.

Her fingertips don’t appear to be blackened in the slightest.

Sara deposits the crate with Visions at the base of the statue.

She doesn’t allow herself to climb up there anymore, with her dizzy spells and muddied mind as of late. Instead, it is a different member of the Tenryou Commission, carefully placing Visions in prepared nooks.

The seven colors glitter brilliantly in the sunlight, brightening the stone and the entirety of the City. It is satisfying, to see all her hard work pay off. 

They’re so close now. Just some twenty more Visions, and the requirements will be met. Just some twenty more, and Inazuma will reach eternity.

Pride. Sara feels pride at the thought. That’s what the cold, clammy feeling sticking to the back of her throat is.

“General!”

The shout makes her whip around, so fast her already spinning head spins all the faster. The voice is wrong, so it can’t be, but the location, the situation, it’s all so very familiar it could very well be—

But it isn’t. It’s a sentry, from the Tenshukaku. 

“General,” he repeats, catching his breath. “You are needed at the palace, immediately. The Shogun has been challenged to a duel.”

Clang of sword against stone. Dimming of an Electro Vision. Blood before the throne.

Sara feels shaky and ill, exhausted from the duel, desperate in pursuit of the young samurai.

That Vision isn’t yours, she wants to tell him, needs to tell him, it belongs to the Shogun, but she doesn’t know if she could speak even if she caught up with him. Doesn’t know if she believes that.

She gives up pursuit, falls to the ground. She hears a distant splash of water, realizes she must have fallen into a stream. She’s followed him to Chinju Forest and she doesn’t want to track him any farther. Doesn’t want to take the Vision, has to clench her teeth and shut her eyes to find the courage to admit that to herself.

Failure, she thinks. Failure to capture the samurai and reclaim the Vision, failure to follow orders, failure to act as a herald of eternity.

On her knees, in a calm stream, surrounded by fireflies and spirits, Kujou Sara fails her Archon.

This forest was her home, once. Before the Vision.

One of her sleeves is speckled with blood. She dunks the fabric into the water, loath to dirty the clear brook, but desperate to get rid of the stain. She rubs at the flecks with numb fingers, over and over, over and over, watches its rusty color bleed all over her forearm and into the water. Wonders if her ancestors are here, watching. 

On her knees in shallow water, frenzied with fear and panic, Kujou Sara scrubs at her sleeves, and mourns.

She returns to the city after nightfall. 

Not to the Tenshukaku, no. She doesn’t think she can face the Shogun after failing to capture the fleeing samurai; and she doesn’t think she could even if she had been successful and returned with the dull, emptied Vision.

No, Sara returns to Hanamizaka. The old watermill, specifically. She climbs up onto the roof, facing the ocean, shivering in her soaked uniform.

She doesn’t know how much time she passes there, frightened and cold, heart still racing despite the pursuit being long over, when she notices a shadow join her on the roof.

Yoimiya sits down on the opposite side, legs dangling off the edge, and it’s easy to imagine she came to the watermill to work on a new firework design, a new toy, until she looks to the side and her eyes unerringly find Sara’s.

Whatever she sees in her face, Yoimiya moves, getting up and crossing the roof silently until she’s right beside Sara.

Sara doesn’t know where the two of them stand. After today, they both feel like criminals. If they’re on opposing sides, and yet both enemies of eternity, what does that make them?

When she feels a touch on her shoulder, her body involuntarily jerks. Yoimiya’s touch is warm, and it doesn’t burn, and it comforts and pains all at once, and Sara feels tears prickling in her eyes. Yoimiya moves closer, settling down right beside her, hand unmoving and gentle on Sara’s tense shoulder.

They’re close enough that Sara can reach out and return the favour. She thinks of Yoimiya’s Vision, careful not to touch it this time, still feeling the heat of it even from a distance. She lets herself trace Yoimiya’s hip, her fingers tingling from the divine power and warmth.

Alive, she reminds herself. She’s still alive.