Blackbeard; The Legend

The Big Day

Akahana's heart fluttered inside her chest as servants dressed her up and applied makeup on her, and they were extra-precise about it this time, for no other day was as important as today. Akahana could hear the bustling crowds in the lobby, the excited murmurs of the upcoming announcement. Isamu had paid over a dozen chefs to prepare hundreds of appetizers and meals for the suitors and their families. Akahana sat up straight as the final touches were complete, and she looked in the mirror. What reflected back was an otherworldly beautiful maiden to the servants, proud of their handiwork. But to her, it was like looking at an exact replica of her mother.

"Lady Akahana," A servant opened the door. "It's time." Akahana stood up, and the servants followed beside her in an elegant procession, as she walked down the corridor. Reaching the corner, Akahana took a breath as she turned it, and she appeared to the crowd, regal and gorgeous. Descending down the stairs, the chatter of the masses slowly quieting as they watched her, and when she finally set foot on the floor, they parted to make a pathway to her father, who was awaiting on his gold throne, Twig seated on the left, and an empty eloquent chair on the right. As she proceeded forward, she was secretly watching out of the corner of her eye for Hiroaki, however, the throng was so thick, she couldn't see past the numerous people.

Reaching the throne, she sat down, and Isamu stood up and raised his hand for complete silence. The quiet whispers hushed, and when it was completely silent, he began to speak.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen." His voice boomed. "I am so glad that all of you could arrive in due time, since this is one of the most important days that any parent could have for their child, and is something we know firsthand experience in. I mean, all of us have been through it, am I right?" Subsequent laughter rippled through the crowd, and Isamu raised his hand again, ensuing silence. "But you're not hear to make me jokes. You're here to hear who will be my daughter's groom, and who will not." Isamu cleared his throat. "Just to be clear; if your son isn't the one who was chosen, it's nothing personal." He leaned in. "Trust me, I had to observe over a hundred men to see who was the best choice, so forgive me if I'm a bit forgetful." A nervous chuckle reverberated through the crowd, and Akahana could feel the tension in the air.

Isamu snapped his fingers, and a servant scurried to him, holding a small piece of parchment in a gilded bowl. Isamu picked up the folded paper and the whole room went deathly silent as Isamu unfolded the paper. Akahana leaned forward, anxious to know who her father picked.

Isamu cleared his voice, before booming out. "With congratulations, I give you the hand of my daughter..."

"...Hiroaki Mae. Will you please step forward?"

The crowd rustled, before from the back, someone was heading to the front, the throng parting to allow him to get there. Akahana got up from her throne as he reached the front, his yellow kimono glittering with gold. Yet was pale in comparison to Hiroaki's eyes, that were practically gleaming light as he looked to her.

"Now, will the crowd make some space, and will the musicians begin?" Her father snapped his fingers, and as the servants helped to make a wide circle in the middle of the room, Akahana slowly walked to Hiroaki, and his face broke out into an irrepressible grin that could've lit up even the darkest cave.

"Shall we?" He asked gently, offering his hand, and Akahana smiled back with the same radiant energy. Taking his hand, he lead her into the centre of the room. Holding each other's hand, Hiroaki took the lead as soft music began to play.

Slowly, he directed Akahana around the empty space, with every step he took, she followed. He pirouetted her around like a spinning top, her robes swishing in the wind. As the music continued, Akahana looked to the crowd. Obviously the rest of the suitors must be feeling crushed, and even though they didn't show it, their families must've felt the same.