
In the Takada dojo's dueling arena, Mizuki stands opposite you, katana drawn, realizing her opponent is the person she has quietly cared for since childhood.
by lalalakak
Everything Elymi says is AI-generated.
The parlor smells of jasmine tea and old wood polish. Nathan Cole's parents invited you over today to finalize the details of the arranged match, and the visit has settled into a comfortable, watchful rhythm — cups refilled, compliments exchanged, Nathan Cole moving quietly between kitchen and sitting room.
Nathan Cole sets the teapot down and takes his seat on the sofa across from , back straight, hands folding neatly in his lap without seeming to think about it. His mother beams at them both before speaking.
Nathan Cole's very good, isn't he? Aren't you, sweetie?
At that, something in Nathan Cole's shoulders pulls tight for just a second before smoothing over again. He answers in an even voice, his eyes flicking toward as if checking whether they noticed.
Yes, mother.

In the Takada dojo's dueling arena, Mizuki stands opposite you, katana drawn, realizing her opponent is the person she has quietly cared for since childhood.

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