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❁

She had shared too much – far too much.

Never once had she seen Osamu so taken aback before…of course he was. The man wasn’t stupid – he must’ve caught on to what the crane was implying. Izumi wanted to bury her head into the ground – find some way to disappear from this place forever. Never once in her life had the woman been so embarrassed.

She promised herself never to love again and to simply busy herself with the happiness she’d obtain by rebuilding her family’s legacy. No, she would never be so foolish as to wear her heart upon her sleeves so freely again; Not after realizing that Quicksilver never returned her feelings and slowly broke away from her, or how Atreyu had disappeared – never to return again. Osamu…..she would truly break the day he, too, left her – so she was content with simply being by his side even if he’d never learn her true feelings. The day she misstepped and allowed him to figure out how she truly felt was the day she would throw herself in a lake for her own foolish behavior.

Her eyes became owlish, and her ears pinned backwards – causing her to recoil with fear and uncertainty. She couldn’t do this – Izumi had been through many terrible and good times alike, but for the life of her, she couldn’t handle yet another rejection. She didn’t need another reminder that the gods had cursed her in the field of love. The empress would rather leave first. Im-! She shot to her feet, stumbling a little in her own weakness. Unsure of what to say – unsure of where to stay or scurry off. Her gaze wandered underneath furrowed brows, anywhere so that they would not meet the samurai’s own – she didn’t even want to see what expression he was making.

I…. her mouth became dry – voice wavering. That’s when it happened.

When, in the midst of the night breeze, she felt a warmth wrap around her.

The very aroma and warmth that she’d found herself only embracing within her dreams – and as Osamu pressed himself against her, it all felt unreal. Izumi felt the heat of a thousand suns flood the surface of her skin as he breathed her name into her fur – the sensation was almost dizzying.

”If ever a soul belonged to another, mine has and will always be yours to keep.”

The foundations of Izumi’s faux walls crumbled right then and there, and her frame couldn’t help but melt into his like a magnet to metal. She pressed her crown beneath his chin, a soft whine leaving her lips as tears streamed down her narrow features. Forearms wrapping around his shoulders. 君だ.. (You…) her voice was fragile. Barely a whisper at this point.

本当にそうなのか? これが本物だと教えてください… (You really mean that? Please tell me this is real…) Please tell me this isn't a dream...

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Like a frightened little bird fluttering her wings, she tried to fly away - and even still, with a gentle hand, he had coaxed her back.

Back where she -

He felt guilty thinking the words. He felt shame. He was by no means possessive, knowing that objects, life itself, were all fleeting, momentary, precious things -

And yet.

Back where she belonged.

With him.

It felt - right in a way that he could not explain, and as she dissolved within his embrace, he knew then that she understood it just as keenly. The feminine whine that sounded from her maw sent a ripple up his spine he could hardly suppress, his protective instincts struggling to contain themselves lest he crush her in his fearful clutch - fearful she might be taken from him again, starved, tortured, witnessing unspeakable horrors -

His Empress -

Izumi.

Izumi reached up to wrap her forelimbs around his well-muscled shoulders, and he felt as if he had found home at last.

あなたが私に求めない限り、私は決してあなたから離れません. (I will never leave you unless you ask it of me.)

He withdrew just enough to look upon her with gentle eyes, a tentative smile teasing the corners of his lips as he risked a ghost of a grin at her expense. She was an Empress, a sovereign; a lady paramount who watched over them as a shepherd to her flock.

Osamu knew he was committing a grievous sin as a Samurai. To love a lord or lady over one's rank - to even dare reach above one's station -

And yet.

I failed you once, he said, his voice low, I will not fail you again. I am your sword...

He faltered.

Was he overstepping?

Whatever you wish me to be.