WHISPERS OF A BUTTERFLY • Kamisato Ayato

sixteen. 十六

Ayato had been sliced across with a sword.

Bleeding out in the dark Chinju Forest was just as unbearable as he had imagined it to be.

Pain burned on his chest with his guttural efforts to breathe steadily. It was getting hard to focus. Ayato gritted his teeth. He hated, hated, hated it when he couldn't focus.

Pathetic.

Even an infant with a sword could kill him at this point. He winced as he leaned back, feeling more light-headed than ever. He was losing consciousness as fast as he was losing blood.

There was rustling in the trees, the dim glow of blue flower clumps waving in and out of his vision like stars. Someone burst from the thicket. Thankfully, it was one of his own.

"Lord Kamisato? Hey—hey, I found him! Send troops to back up Kaedehara Kazuha now!"

"Get a stretcher for Lord Kamisato and do not abandon the post. Alert Thoma upstate, the Traveler is on his way with Lady Hiragi in his arms."

The Chinju Forest materialized between his blinks. It was the place where he called off your engagement. It reminded him of the times in your teens when you would spar together in the garden.

Ayato had been genuinely surprised to see you preparing to marry him. The sadness on your face when he broke it off.

He recognized that look of heartbreak well.

The treasure chest in his mind rattled to break open. Memories. Repressed emotions and intense energy.

Ayato had asked you in Ritou if you could recount what he did to make you hate him so much. He stupidly made a fool of himself in your eyes. He knew exactly what he did.

An unhealthy obsession with you was not part of the original plan.

The deal was to be a marriage of convenience, but there had been progress in your relationship over the past few months. You seemed more comfortable. Happier. At ease. He had never allowed himself to think that was because of him.

Then you kissed him like a mad woman.

Not just once, but twice.

Admittedly, he enjoyed it both times.

Ayato blinked away black spots swimming in his eyes and swallowed hard against despair creeping up his throat. Memories were threatening to break through.

It was his fault that you were gone.

A crescendo of misplaced anger sharpened him. He had lost sight of why his advisers had him propose to you in the first place; the entire reason why he had let you back into his life. It was supposed to be for power and alliance. Somehow he allowed his feelings to get involved. He had been uncharacteristically careless. Idiotic.

But the truth was, he had been afraid.

"Yashiro Commissioner—h-hey, he's passing out!"

Ayato drifted to slumber and remembered.

Seventeen.

It was the only teenage year with three syllables in its word, and in Ayato's mouth, it weighed like adulthood already. Too young for what really mattered, but old enough to understand his place.

Ayato kept calm every time he gazed into your eyes, getting into position with your bamboo training swords drawn. It was an excellent excuse to map out your features so he could imprint them into his memory like archival ink.

The garden was less of a training ground and more of a sanctuary. Although he usually won, it wasn't shameful to be second. You weren't even resentful about it. Government was not your priority. There had been many tales of second-born children driven mad by the hunger for power that they poisoned heirs in their sleep. Thankfully, you got along quite well.