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Art by cheniilu
A fresh breath of anemo had brought delicate pink petals into your hazy view. Some without your knowledge were rested on your head. The soft scent of blossom greeted your senses, bringing a vibrancy and optimism ─ but not quite enough to conceal your dismay.
There was a pure disdain of hatred as you tighten the grip on your gold katana with caloused hand. The rapier, contrasting to its owner, glittered beneath the sunbeam. Represented itself in refined arrogance, apart from reflecting your swollen orbs through the exquisite steel.
Drops of salty liquid flowing down your flesh once again. You wiped it harshly, biting a portion of vexation from the fact it didn't stop. Beyond doubt, this wasn't how you desired to spend your spring. Nor you ever yearned to lesson your ménage stupid traditions. All you longed for was naught more than an ordinary life.
Sitting on a rock, you embraced your legs closer and rested your chin on your knees. The wakizashi in your hand was tossed beside to the grass, neglected. In the midst of tranquility, a pair of wooden sandals stopped in front of you.
You looked up in curiosity, only to find a boy stood before you with his right hand stretched.
The youngster was wearing a linen white kimono shirt along with red robe and dark brown pants. Emerald eyes gazed into yours, offering a hospitality in his charm. His messy blond hair sticked out the most from his salient appearance.
"Candy?" He inquired hesitantly, showing the candy in his hand.
Did he really think offering a 14 years old candy would make them feel any better?
"No."
"Uhm... how about some taiyaki?"
"No. Please, don't bother."
"Dango milk?"
"What is that?"
Aha, you took the bait. He grinned from ear to ear. "It's a creative snack which contained milk fused by sticky dango. It tastes really good, I can buy one for you if you want."
"No, I--"
"Come on!" Out of the blue, he grabbed your hand without reluctant.
Ah wait, your ancestry's sword.
The male didn't seem to realize there was a katana beside your seat as he kept leading you to the street. You could have asked him or even yanked his low ponytail; both in order to cease his track and retrieve the family inheritance, yet you didn't.
If truth to be told, you didn't care about that sword at all. Rather, you despised it with your all of your soul. Not a reason was seen by you to agitate yourself with the long legendary weapon.
