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Chapter Text

It was a dark and snowy night in Saga City. A blanket of snow had transformed the city into a hushed, ethereal landscape. Under the gentle glow of flickering lanterns, a lone figure navigates through the white drifts. He stops before a modest inn, its wooden eaves weighed down by snow. He traces the characters carved into the lintel. A faint smile flickers on his lips despite the bitter cold—he has arrived.

He raps on the door. A minute passes. Then—footsteps.

The door creaks open to reveal a woman dressed in a flowing silk kimono, her posture poised and serene. She is breathtaking. Her name, she says with a bow, is Yugiri.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” she greets, her voice warm as velvet. Her voice seems to vanquish the winter cold, as the man’s heart skips a beat. Even in the dim moonlight, he can make out her stunning features and ethereal beauty. The man walks into the inn, drawn like a moth to a flame.

Yugiri lights a candle as the man closes the door behind him. He turns around, properly thanking Yugiri with a slight bow. He is in his mid-twenties, tall and lanky. Though not traditionally handsome, his face is striking—almond-shaped eyes beneath heavy brows, a nose reminiscent of Roman statuary, and large ears like those of Emperor Liu Bei. His dark hair is styled in a Manchu queue, though he wears a European frock coat. To Yugiri, he looks like an Amur tiger at rest—beautiful, exotic, and dangerous.

Candlelight dances in the inn’s entryway, casting golden shadows on lacquered walls. Though electric lights were spreading across Japan, they remained rare in Saga. Yugiri prefers it this way. There is an intimacy to candlelight no Edison bulb can replicate.

“Welcome, kind sir,” she says, her voice tinged with curiosity. “What brings you to this quiet corner of Saga City?”

The man does not answer at first. He removes his backpack, his shoes, then his snow-covered coat, revealing a slender frame and a crisp dress shirt. He is still shivering from the cold, with frost and snow clinging to his eyebrows. The man then sits down at the low table—not in the formal seiza, but cross-legged, stiff yet composed.

For a moment, Yugiri thinks the man, a gaijin, may not speak Japanese. However, these thoughts are dispelled as he finally begins to respond. His Japanese is fluent, yet colored with an unplaceable accent. His voice is gentle but resonant, like a distant cello.

“Personal affairs,” the man says, the corners of his mouth twitching in a tired smile. “I heard your inn offers the best sake and entertainment."

Yugiri lights her kiseru pipe with practiced grace, smoke curling like silk into the shadows. “Indeed I do,” she mutters, her tone amused. “Would you care for warm sake? A bath? Or perhaps… a private performance on the shamisen?”

“I leave it to the lady’s discretion,” the man replies politely. Despite his demeanor, Yugiri can see much deeper into him. His pulse, clearly visible through his pale neck, is quickening. His breathing is becoming more ragged as well. Yugiri lets out a small smirk. This man is hooked, and she knows it.

Yugiri gets up elegantly, extending her hand to the man. “Come, follow me to my private quarters. You can rest, and I’ll play something soothing. I’ll bring some warm sake and prepare a bath.”

She leads the man to a lavish room adorned with silk screens and lanterns. Her movements are fluid and graceful—every step echoing her career as a legendary oiran. She takes out a bottle of fine sake and pours a cup for the traveler, who eagerly accepts. He produces a silver yuanbao ingot in return. Yugiri’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, thank you for your generosity, kind sir,” she replies. “I must say, you have a certain… regal presence about you.” Her voice is a gentle and melodic sing-song, but there is a hint of intrigue in her tone too.

The man nods with pride. “I am Aisin-Gioro Hansi, Prince of Third Rank. A member of the Bordered Yellow Banner.”

Yugiri looks up at the man with a surprised yet doe-eyed expression. She then prostrates herself apologetically. “My apologies. I should have addressed you as ‘Your Highness.’ Please forgive this simple oiran.”

The words make the prince wince. “I am not worthy of such high honors,” he replies, helping Yugiri back up. “My title is mostly ceremonial and meaningless—like gilding on rotten wood.”

Yugiri tilts her head. “But you are still a prince of the Aisin-Gioro clan? That is a most regal lineage indeed.”

The traveler, now revealed as Prince Hansi, nods with a smile, accepting the high praise. Once a minor clan in the wild forests of Manchuria, the Aisin-Gioro transformed themselves into something spectacular. Through diplomacy, shrewdness, reform, and courage, the clan came to rule all of China, establishing the Qing Dynasty. The current emperor, Emperor Guangxu, was sovereign over a quarter of the world’s population. He was also the prince’s second cousin.

“I’m sure you have plenty of questions. For now, this worn-out soul just wants to rest and forget about the past.”

Yugiri lets out a wistful sigh while tuning her shamisen, the instrument glistening beautifully in the moonlight. “One could say I have a complicated past too. But I prefer to focus on the present—where I can still bring beauty to this world.”

The prince looks at the oiran empathetically. Despite their different worlds, they share something intangible. Yugiri’s fingers dance across the strings, producing a melancholic and haunting melody. She speaks in a whisper, her voice nearly drowned in the music. “This piece is called Sakura no Kaze. It speaks of longing for home. I hope it resonates with you, dear prince.”

The prince is mesmerized. He takes a few small sips from his porcelain cup, not wanting the performance to ever end. He recalls his favorite quote from Emperor Napoleon. “Glory is fleeting. Obscurity is forever.”

Yugiri’s expression sharpens as she looks at the prince with knowing eyes. “Such wise words from a noble,” she coos. “Perhaps we both understand what it means to be... immortal in our own way.”

Prince Hansi does not catch the hidden meaning in her words. “The unfinished stories are often the best,” he opines. “Sometimes, all we can do is add our own piece to the mosaic.”

The song slowly comes to an end. The prince lets out a round of applause, smiling and laughing. Yugiri gets up and bows. “My music. My tales. They are my way of crafting a legacy, no matter how fleeting it may seem.”

The prince, still in quiet contemplation, replies softly. “You have a way with words, Yugiri-san. You would make for a wonderful poet and writer. You are wise beyond your years.”

Yugiri laughs softly, a tinkling sound like delicate bells. “Oh, my dear prince, I have had many years indeed. But wisdom is often born from pain and loss.” She offers him another cup of sake. He accepts it with a polite bow.

As he sips, she continues. “I remember the Boshin War. I was only six, but I still recall the sight of Emperor Meiji’s armies marching past my home in Kyoto. It feels like an eternity ago.”

The prince sets the empty cup down gently. “That would make you ten during the Saga Rebellion? And thirteen during the Satsuma Rebellion?”

Yugiri's eyebrows lift slightly, betraying her surprise. “Yes, you are correct. Your knowledge of history surprises me, my dear prince. Most nobles I meet concern themselves only with the present. And most gaijin know nothing of Japanese affairs.”

The prince happily accepts the compliment. “To secure a brighter future for the Aisin-Gioro clan, I must learn about both past and present. Japan has modernized so quickly. I want to apply those lessons to China, so I have been studying in Japan for the past year.”

Yugiri senses the pride and eagerness in his voice.

“Change is never easy,” Yugiri remarks, her voice airy. “Reformers clashing with traditionalists… That bitter struggle has caused so much death and destruction here in Japan. I just hope China can learn from Japan’s scars.”

The prince drains his second cup of sake. Always perceptive, Yugiri detects unease in him. Politics is always a touchy subject—but it can be incredibly revealing too.

The state of court politics makes the prince’s stomach turn. He gives only a vague reply. “You are well-informed. The reform faction, led by Prince Gong, is locked in a losing battle with the conservatives under Prince Duan.”

Yugiri tilts her head, her eyes bright with curiosity. “And where do you stand, my dear prince?”

Prince Hansi lets out a deep and weary sigh. “I am of little consequence. I am but a low-ranking prince and a middling diplomat. For what it’s worth, I support the reformers. The world is coming—whether we like it or not. The Opium Wars have shown how powerful the Westerners are. It was a painful lesson. If we fail to adapt, our people may not survive.”

Yugiri raises a hand to her lips, as if deep in thought. But the seemingly innocent gesture conceals something far more sinister. A broad smirk spreads across her face.

Unknowingly, the prince has presented her with an opportunity—and a plan.

An excellent plan.

A chance to save Saga. A chance to save Kiichi Momozaki. And maybe herself, too.

Even though fate and fortune have been most unkind to her, Yugiri feels convinced that her scheme would succeed this time. The kami were on her side. A foreign prince had arrived at her doorstep. It could not be a more obvious sign from the gods. Fate is going to be her puppet this time, and the puppet show she is planning would be nothing short of spectacular.

Despite all the thoughts and schemes swirling in her head, Yugiri never loses her composure. She adjusts her silken kimono and begins to play a lighthearted tune on her shamisen.

“You speak eloquently, my dear prince,” her voice flows with admiration. “Adaptation is indeed crucial. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned from even the most unexpected sources—like a legendary oiran well-versed in history and politics.”

The prince lets out a few chuckles, nodding slowly. However, the perceptive Yugiri notices a hint of sadness and reluctance in his movements.

“Is there something troubling you, my dear prince?” she leans in, her music slowing.

“I have heard stories about you, Yugiri-san,” the prince says in a melancholic whisper. “A certain legendary oiran in Saga tried to ignite a rebellion. I believe in what you stood for… I wanted to help, and lend diplomatic support. However, it appears I am too late. The revolution… it ended before it even began.”

Yugiri’s blood abruptly turns cold.

Her shamisen string snaps.

Chapter Text

The oiran’s demure and happy demeanor shatters as grief crushes her like a tidal wave. She looks down at her hands, now pale and icy cold. She breaks down, letting out a heartbreaking cry. It is raw and unguarded. It feels so incredibly visceral—it sends shivers down the prince’s spine.

The prince responds instinctively, staring into Yugiri’s tearful, doe-like eyes. He wraps his arms around her, offering his handkerchief. He watches silently as tears stream down her cheeks.

“The revolution has failed,” she gasps between sobs. “It has cost me everything. The man I loved… and so many dear friends…”

Yugiri struggles to hold back her tears. Without even realizing it, the prince had uncovered her greatest weakness. She was a broken woman. She had lost everything, including all those closest to her. When she took Shojiro Ito’s life, a part of her died with him. Another piece vanished when Kiichi Momozaki was forced into hiding. These moments left her with a hollowness she had never felt before.

The prince offers a sympathetic look. He cannot find the words to comfort her, so he gently brushes her hair with his hands. It worked for his little sister when she hurt her leg years ago and missed a relay race. But it does little to soothe the immense spiritual pain Yugiri carries now.

“The man you loved?” he asks quietly.

Yugiri’s gaze turns distant, her voice soft and tinged with sadness. She thinks of Kiichi’s smile, his voice, and the way he used to tug at her sleeves and heartstrings.

“Kiichi Momozaki. So devoted to Saga. Handsome, kind, endearing. He wanted to rebuild Saga peacefully, but the old men around him embraced violence instead. While we were still trying to quell the bloodshed, we were betrayed by a mutual friend. He had to flee and go into hiding. I pray he is still alive… but I may never see him again…”

She breaks down again before finishing her story, crying bitterly. The tears are heavier than before. The prince hugs her tightly.

“That traitor was Shojiro Ito?” he asks. “There were rumors…”

Yugiri feels her throat tighten. The bitter memories are fresh and cut deep. She cried for days afterward, mourning the man she once considered a dear friend. It filled her with loathing and shame. But she could not bring herself to hate Shojiro Ito. He was a good man, doing what he thought was right—trying to save the country from further chaos. He was generous and beloved—he even left a small fortune to a local orphanage in his will.

There were no witnesses to their fateful duel four nights ago, but suspicion fell on her regardless. Some friends distanced themselves. Parents stopped sending their daughters for music and dance lessons. The isolation gnawed at her.

Yugiri continues to cry for several more minutes. The prince pours her a cup of sake, which she gladly accepts. She downs another, and finally a third. The third cup finally steadies her nerves.

“Please forgive me for this shameful display, my dear prince,” she mutters, still sniffing, “You came here for pleasant company and laughs. I should not have given you a litany of woe instead. This is what happens when love and duty collide…”

The prince nods understandingly and offers Yugiri a tight hug. He continues to pet her head and her luscious brown hair. “For every choice, there is an echo. With each act, we change the world. I would love to hear more of your story one day, when you feel ready.”

The raw emotions of the night weakened the prince’s guard and dulled his senses. With her display of vulnerability, Yugiri seemed so helpless and fragile, like a newborn fawn. Of course, this was far from the truth—but all the prince wanted to do was to hold and comfort her. He feels something stir inside him. A strong desire not only to protect, but to understand and accept. He did not know it, but he was falling in love.

Yugiri knew the signs all too well—the flicker in the eyes, the subtle blush, the uneven breath, and the quickened heartbeat. Even if the prince’s mind had not caught on, his body was already confessing. As Lao Tzu once said, love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses.

What unsettled Yugiri most was realizing how her own heart mirrored his. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the hollow ache left behind by Kiichi’s disappearance. Either way, the prince’s warm embrace awakened something she thought long buried.

The legendary oiran now had to face the troubling truth—she was falling in love, too.

The prince was tall, strong, and intelligent. Though he could never match Kiichi’s mischievous charm or striking looks, Yugiri found him endearing in his own way. For someone of such high standing, he was surprisingly relatable—understanding, even. He carried not just knowledge, but charisma. Beneath his polished exterior lay a disarming sincerity. And he was not bad to look at, either.

Yugiri catches herself ogling him and quickly looks away. Oiran like her were not supposed to fall in love with clients. To do so was amateurish, unbecoming of a professional. She felt like a fool—and that only confirmed her fear: she was truly falling for him.

Her eyes lock with Prince Hansi’s, filled with a mix of love, hesitation, and vulnerability. She notes the unusual softness in his gaze as she accepts his gentle touch. He cups her hand like a newborn bird.

“I am sorry, my dear prince,” Yugiri whispers, “Something strange is happening to me tonight. I do not feel my best. I can tell you the rest of my story tomorrow.”

The prince reluctantly releases her hand. It feels incredibly soft, and the scent reminds him of chrysanthemums. He wants more, but he also senses something beneath the surface.

“It is getting late,” he says with finality. “I have enjoyed your company, but it is time for me to bathe and retire.”

Yugiri nods sweetly. “Yes, of course. The last customer used the bath an hour ago, but it should still be warm. I can fetch a yukata for you and have your clothes cleaned tomorrow morning.”

“I would love that, Yugiri-san,” the prince replies, eager to shake off the bitter cold. “Please show me the way.”

Yugiri grabs his hand and leads him to the baths on the first floor. She fetches a pair of yukata and offers him a laundry basket. The prince empties his pockets—wallet, loose papers, several omamori amulets, and his trusty pocket knife.

In the dim light, he does not notice the kaiken dagger hidden in the closet. Nor does he observe the calculating look in Yugiri’s eyes.

Hypnotized by Yugiri’s elegance and beauty, he does not see or hear the oiran subtly slipping the dagger into her kimono sleeve.

Yugiri opens the doors to the mushiburo steam baths. Though not a true onsen, the inn’s twin wooden pools, heated by a rear boiler, glow under soft lantern light. One of the pools is still warm, and there are no other guests. The sadness and cold of the night begin to fade. Hansi feels like he has been transported to another world.

Yugiri giggles, hiding her smile behind her sleeve. This time, the devious smirk does not return. Her smile is genuine. Of course, she has reasons to be pleased—the plan is proceeding well. But a strange sadness clings to her. The prince does not deserve what’s coming. Her feelings for him feel real. But if her plan is to succeed, it would not matter anyway. She steels herself. This is for Saga. For Kiichi. For herself. Maybe even for the prince.

“You know,” she whispers seductively, her voice like honey, “I think I would like a bath as well. I want to get clean… especially after all that excitement.”

“Oh my…” the prince stammers, blushing. Communal baths and female attendants were accepted in Japan, but not in Europe or China. There, the idea of seeing an unmarried woman unclothed was scandalous.

Still, he cannot quiet the fire inside him. His mind races. Despite his title, he has rarely known the private company of women. He has never experienced real intimacy. In his young mind, there could be no pleasure greater than this.

Yugiri sees his flustered face and smiles coyly. “You must be feeling very constricted, neh? Don’t worry. I’ll lock the doors. No one will bother us.”

Hansi swallows. “I’ve, er, never done this before. Are you sure… you’re comfortable with this?”

Yugiri playfully swats his arm. “You are such a naughty buck. But I cannot blame you.” Her voice drops to a teasing whisper. “I’ll wash you and make you feel new. You can wash me too, with those big hands of yours. I know how much they’ve wanted to touch me.”

The prince’s ears burn. He cannot look away from her beautiful form. She winks before continuing. “Only your hands, though. You must still control yourself.”

He gulps. This is a moment he’ll remember forever. He expects to feel nervous, but it just feels… right.

“I will behave, Yugiri-san.”

Yugiri giggles like a schoolgirl, pressing her chest against him. She tugs at his necktie, slowly and teasingly. She fumbles with the knot, unfamiliar with the foreign design. She pouts before giving up, and this only makes her more irresistible.

The prince undoes the tie himself and tosses it aside. “I like Western suits, but neckties feel useless. I feel much better without that foreign noose around my neck.”

Yugiri nods, then begins to unbutton his shirt. Her breath quickens. She slides it off his shoulders, eyes roaming over his chest, her fingers tracing muscle and scar.

“You look quite strong for a diplomat and scholar,” she teases. “You look like a warrior.”

Every scar tells a story. One slash across his ribs speaks of swordplay. A puckered mark near his shoulder hints at an old gunshot. This was no pampered aristocrat.

She presses her cheek to a twisted scar below his collarbone. The ribs beneath are misaligned, but he displays them proudly.

“That one is from a British lord’s cane… I argued against the Unequal Treaties while studying in London.”

Yugiri pauses, then looks up with admiration. “You must be incredibly smart… or incredibly dumb. Either way, you are brave.”

She nuzzles his neck, reaches for his belt, and teases him about his body’s reaction. “Someone’s eager,” she smirks.

The prince, lost in desire, can think of nothing else. His guard is gone. He wants only her.

The belt comes loose with a soft clink. Yugiri pulls down his pants and underpants, then admires her handiwork. For the legendary oiran, seeing a man saluting her never grows old. The prince is in his prime and eager to please.

Yugiri feels heat stir within her. Still fully dressed, she hands him a jasmine-scented yukata. He wraps himself quickly. She gestures for him to sit. She massages his shoulders.

“It’s your turn, Yugiri-san,” he says, trembling. “I… I can hardly wait.”

Yugiri’s fingers pause along his spine.

She reaches into her sleeve with one fluid, well-rehearsed motion.

“If you insist on haste,” she murmurs, “perhaps this will satisfy your curiosity.”

The prince has no time to react.

He sees a flicker, hears a metallic hiss. Then her lips brush his ear—warm as the bath, sharp as her whisper.

“Now, my dear prince, we negotiate.”

The warmth of her touch vanishes.

Cold steel rests against his skin.

His eyes widen as he looks down and sees the kaiken dagger gleaming in her hand.

Chapter Text

Yugiri holds the kaiken firmly against the prince’s jugular—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to promise it. Her other arm wraps tightly around his chest, anchoring him to the side of the bath. He is a big man, and the scars across his torso hint at martial arts training. Yugiri knows she cannot rely on brute force alone. She has to be cunning too.

“Tamade," the prince curses, the words bouncing off the cedar walls. His heart pounds in his chest—not with excitement now, but with fear. He instinctively reaches for the dagger, but Yugiri anticipates the move. A skilled swordswoman and judo expert, she slams his arm against the edge of the bath with a textbook jujutsu counter. The kaiken does not move at first, but it then begins to trace down his chest.

Yugiri lets out a cold laugh. “I could sever your ren mai meridian before you even blink,” she murmurs. “Try again, and I will.”

Hansi is smart and calm enough not to try again. His body tenses, so Yugiri responds by pressing her fingers into the pressure points on his neck and back. He realizes he is completely outmatched.

“What is the meaning of this?” he growls, voice gritty. “I am a diplomat of the Chinese Imperial Court. If you harm me, Peking and Tokyo will both send armies to hunt you down. They will burn Saga to ash.”

Those are the exact words she needs to hear. Her laugh is as bitter as raw matcha. “They already have.”

The prince feels drops of warm liquid fall onto his back. It is not blood. Sweat? Or perhaps Yugiri’s tears? He does not dare look back.

“I apologize for the deception, my dear prince,” she says coolly, “but not everything is as it seems in this new era.”

The prince coughs, his chest heaving. “If you were after my money, you could have just stolen it as I slept… Is this about revenge then? Perhaps for the Imo Incident?”

“This is not about money or revenge,” Yugiri replies. Still gripping the dagger, she gently brushes her arm against his chest in an attempt to calm him. “I wish you no harm. Just listen.”

His breath slows, but he remains wary.

“Fine. I’ll listen,” he says. “But if you want political support for your failed rebellion, abandon that hope. It’s over. Even if I wanted to help, the Qing Court would never support a lost cause.”

Yugiri catches the sadness in his voice, but keeps her expression cold.

“I know it failed. I know better than anyone. I’m not asking for money, soldiers, or political recognition. I don’t want foreign troops on Japanese soil either.”

“Neither do I,” he says. “The Qing dynasty is barely holding itself together. The last thing we need is another war.”

“Good. Then you understand.”

“Of course I understand,” he grunts. “What I do not understand is the dagger. This is not how negotiations are done. Anything agreed to while under duress is null and void.”

“Do I have your word that you’ll listen and consider my proposal?”

He swallows hard. “Yes. You have my word. I’m a diplomat—listening is my job.”

Yugiri’s scheme is now entering its final, most decisive phase. It is also the most dangerous, but Yugiri embraces the spirit of the gamble. She releases him just enough to let him turn, but she does not let go of the dagger. The candlelight catches the beads of sweat running down the prince’s neck.

The prince turns to face her, still seated. He expects a sneer, or perhaps armed accomplices looking down at him. Instead, he sees tears in her eyes.

Yugiri wipes at her face, trying to steady her voice. “I know I’ve committed a grave offense. Government officials know I was involved. They’re sending soldiers to arrest the rebels still alive… myself included.”

The prince nods slowly. “Yes. I saw a ship arrive in Nagasaki yesterday. Heard it was transporting soldiers heading here, to Saga.”

“When they arrive, I’ll be arrested. I’ll likely be executed.” Her voice cracks. Big tears spill down her cheeks, vanishing into the rising steam. Her grief is palpable, her voice now a broken whimper.

The prince’s anger fades into confusion, then pity. His heart thuds—less from fear now, more from an aching need to protect her.

He reaches out, hesitates when he sees the dagger, and then pulls back his hand.

“I’m sorry, Yugiri,” he says gently. “That’s… terrible.”

Yugiri’s sobs only become more intense. The prince watches silently. It is more heartbreaking than her earlier cries. This time, there is no sake around for him to offer. It is raw, visceral, and unfiltered sorrow.

The prince racks his brain. He is already a fool for falling in love, but now he is a desperate one, coming up with ideas only desperate fools could conceive. “Maybe I could disguise you as one of my servants? Or you could hide in the forest—I could bring food, water—until it blows over. Maybe start a new life elsewhere?”

Yugiri shakes her head. Without a single word being said, he understands the answer. Yugiri is a woman of honor, in a land still governed by Bushido . Hiding would be worse than death. And they would punish her friends. The man she once loved, too. The prince cannot recall his name—it doesn’t matter anyway. He now understands what Yugiri meant when she spoke of being immortal in her own way.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “A woman like you would never accept such dishonor.”

The prince has studied diplomacy across cultures, memorized tactics by Sun Tzu and von Clausewitz, and read treaties from every European court. Yet now, his mind is blank.

Yugiri looks at the prince with puppy-like eyes, now red and swollen from crying. Her voice is a hoarse whisper. “You’re a diplomat… right?”

“Yes.”

“And you have diplomatic status, recognized by the Meiji government?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Hope glimmers in her expression. She steps forward and gently hands her kaiken to the prince. She pauses—just for a heartbeat—then unties her kimono sash. The kimono falls into the water, revealing her bare, unblemished skin. Her nakedness is not just seduction—it is surrender. No hidden weapons. No lies.

Though now fully naked, she stands with quiet confidence. Wiping away the last of her tears, she clears her throat and speaks with the poise of a queen.

“Prince Aisin-Gioro Hansi, I have a proposal. One that benefits us both.”

He can only nod, captivated.

“Marry me… or kill me.”

Silence.

Then, a splash—the dagger drops into the bath.

Then—laughter.

The prince throws his head back, shoulders shaking with genuine amusement. It roars out of him—louder than his curses from earlier. Yugiri just stares blankly, unsure if he has gone insane. This was not the reaction she anticipated. She searches his eyes for deceit, but she only finds mirth and sincerity. 

“Oh, Yugiri-san,” he gasps, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “You could’ve just asked .”

Yugiri’s eyes narrow, still not sure which option the prince has chosen. It is now her turn to be utterly confused and bewildered.

Grinning, the prince fetches his belongings from the laundry basket and unwraps several of the omamori amulets. Hidden inside are brilliant gemstones and intricate imperial necklaces and earrings. Her eyes widen as the final charm is opened. The prince pulls out a golden ring inlaid with rubies and carvings of twin birds. He places it into her trembling hands.

Yugiri stands stunned. Her plan has worked—but it is he who laughs like a man possessed.

And then—another laugh joins his. Bright, melodic, and euphoric.

Yugiri cries again, but now with tears of joy. She hugs the prince tightly, letting out a delighted cheer. All the sorrow has evaporated. No fear. No regrets. Only warmth.

The prince returns the hug, gently brushing her hair. “I came to Saga for two reasons,” he admits. “Officially, to investigate the rebellion. Unofficially… to find you.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Yugiri teases, “Why would a prince like you be interested in a foreign rebel?”

“The tales of the oiran who fought for Saga reached even China,” he replies, gently caressing Yugiri’s face. “Beauty, wit, and steel? How could I resist?”

Yugiri is moved by the prince’s honesty, but she still has questions in her heart. “The Qing Imperial Court would not approve of this marriage. They would never approve of you binding yourself to a failed rebel. You may lose everything.”

“In China, they call me ‘the Ghost Prince’—a title without power or authority. But you… you fight. Even when broken. I want to be more than a ghost. I may lose wealth and status, but in you, I will find new meaning and purpose. That is why I want to bind myself to you. I would rather be a fighting prince, binding myself to a fighting empress.”

She kisses his cheek. It is his first, and it stirs something wild and tender inside him.

“From the moment I first saw you,” he confesses, holding Yugiri’s arms, “I knew that you were the one . I never expected things to happen so quickly though.”

“That’s pathetic,” she replies playfully, massaging his tense shoulders. “A prince so tempted by a simple woman? Where have I heard this story before? Am I your Xi Shi ? Or maybe your Diao Chan ?”

“You are anything but simple, Yugiri-san,” he says. Then, after a pause, “Should I just call you Yugiri now? Or wife?”

“Just Yugiri—for now,” she smirks. “We’re not married yet. I could still say no.” She looks longingly at the ruby-encrusted ring, but does not put it on.

“If you decline, how will you get diplomatic immunity?” Hansi grins, slapping his knee. His tone changes from one of amusement to that of admiration. “That was a brilliant plan. I wish I’d thought of it. You just staged a coup de théâtre worthy of Peking Opera!”

Yugiri smiles and kisses him again. “That saves me the trouble of explaining everything. It saves the author from writing more tedious explanations too. I’d tease you, but I’m honestly impressed.”

They look into each other’s eyes, and there they could find no fault, only truth. There is no longer any deceit or sadness. Only joy and hope for a better future. There are no words spoken, but there does not need to be. All the words in the world are conveyed through that one simple look. They then bump their foreheads against each other as Yugiri lets out an adorable squeal.

Hansi holds Yugiri’s trembling hands as she closely examines the ring, glistening beautifully in the candlelight. The craftsmanship is unmistakably imperial, with intricate patterns and carvings. However, on the inside, the patterns are worn down.

The prince sees the question in Yugiri’s eyes. “This is an imperial consort’s jewel,” he replies, “It once belonged to my maternal grandmother. She once persuaded a Mongol khan to marry her at knifepoint. I did not believe her story at first, but I certainly do now.” 

The prince gently slides the ring onto Yugiri’s finger, and Yugiri gladly accepts. They share a long hug, followed by a long kiss. 

“The rest won’t be easy,” the prince warns. “We’ll need a priest, papers… some bribes, probably—”

Yugiri presses a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry, my prince,” she coos. “From now on, I’ll be your wife and your strategist.”

He caresses her face playfully. “My own oiran strategist. How intriguing...”

“Not just a strategist—wife!” she pouts like an angry puppy.

He lifts her onto his lap, looking up with innocent eyes. “This has to be more than a marriage of convenience. My wife must love me sincerely. With all her heart. Do you?”

She blushes. She has already shown him her body, her fears, her darkness, and her tears. But confessing love feels even more intimate.

“Perhaps… I’ve grown fond of you, my idiot prince,” Yugiri confesses, feeling her heart flutter. “I am very grateful for your kindness and protection. An oiran’s love is often transactional. But with you, it feels real. It feels like true love. And that scares me.”

“There’s an army after you. But love is scarier?”

Yugiri nods, laughing softly. “I’ve lost everything before. I won’t lose what I love again.”

“You’re one hell of a woman, Yugiri. If you weren’t naked, I’d think you had another dagger hidden somewhere.”

She giggled, then kissed him again. “I’m sorry for the earlier drama. But you’re braver than most nobles I’ve met. That only makes me love you more.”

“We were strangers this morning…”

“And yet, here we are, naked in a bath together, discussing marriage and bribes.”

Yugiri fetches her kaiken from the bottom of the bath. She presents it to the prince like a gift, using the palms of both hands.

“Take it. It is a symbol of our pact. And a promise that I would never harm you… not unless you give me reason to… or unless you want me to.” She winks seductively as she says the last part.

Although the prince is dressed in nothing but a yutaka, he still tries to make the moment look as dignified as possible. He bows as he accepts the kaiken dagger, only to drop it a moment later when he realizes how hot it got after spending so long in the water. 

“Let us swear a more formal oath instead,” he whispers while flapping his hands, “like the Oath of the Peach Garden.”

“Oath of Our Peachy Bathhouse.”

The two collect a few of the omamori amulets still in the laundry bin. They form the amulets into a small pile, resting their hands on it. Somehow, it makes the oath feel both more charming and more powerful.

“I, Yugiri of Saga, swear to aid and protect you, Prince Aisin-Gioro Hansi, as long as we shall live. I swear to serve you and your clan with the utmost loyalty. May the kami of Saga attest to what is in my heart.”

“I, Aisin-Gioro Hansi, Prince of Third Rank, accept your declaration. I swear to protect your friends and allies. I swear to save the troubled and to aid the endangered people of China and Japan. From this day forward, we are one.”

Yugiri grips the prince’s hands firmly. “Let us fight together. And may our spirits join each other when our time comes.”

“We shall triumph. Triumph together.”

Yugiri strips the prince of his yutaka and then tackles him into the bath. The two share a long laugh. “It looks like I triumphed more this time though, my idiot prince.”

The prince smiles at the nickname--an unexpected honor, and one he accepts without protest.  It reminds him of Lev Nikolayevich Myshkin , the main character of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot . The prince was a good, capable, and intelligent man, but his open-heartedness and guilelessness led others to deem him an idiot. It is an unorthodox name for an unorthodox bond—but it has a charm all its own.”

They kiss each other on the lips as water splashes all around them. The prince looks right into Yugiri’s sultry eyes. With her brown hair now wet, she looks irresistible. The prince feels a special heat rising deep within him, far hotter than the steamy baths. He is not afraid to act on it this time.

“I do not believe our oath has been sealed yet,” he teases.

“Oh my… How could I forget?” Yugiri replies, pretending to be surprised. “Very well then. Let us consummate our… oath properly.”

Everything later that night would have a dreamlike quality to it. The frenzy. The lust. The coarseness. The sound of water splashing around them. She would feel his passion, his sweet breath, his liquid fire, and his hands clutching her marvelously. It would feel most like a dream because Yugiri’s plans had worked like a dream—and it was the best dream she ever dreamed.

Chapter Text

The prince watches the sultry oiran walk slowly toward him, a seductive smile on her face. Her figure is the epitome of elegance—tall, svelte, and slender. The prince blushes, twiddling his thumbs. The scene is more beautiful than anything he could have imagined. He cannot take his eyes away.

Yugiri straddles the prince, running her fingers along his broad shoulders. “Your admiration flatters me, my idiot prince,” she teases. “But you are so stiff …” The double meaning causes the prince to chuckle.

“Well, this is my first time…”

Yugiri lets out a small gasp, raising her hand to her mouth. “I would have never known. I would think that a handsome, tempting prince like you would be surrounded by beautiful women.”

The prince smiles at the sincere compliment. “I was a late bloomer. I spent most of my teenage years studying, traveling, and writing. I did not start to think about women and marriage until much more recently.”

“That just makes tonight even more memorable then,” Yugiri quips, pressing her warm, soft body against him. “Let me take the lead.”

“We men of the Bordered Yellow Banner conquer. But tonight—” His breath hitches. “Tonight, I surrender to you.”

Their lips meet in a passionate kiss. The prince embraces the brown-haired oiran, massaging the curves of her slender waist. Her mouth feels warm and inviting. A muffled gasp escapes him as her tongue slips into his mouth. Their kisses grow hungrier, wilder—less like a prince and an oiran , and more like two souls who had finally found one another.

They break the kiss, breathless. Giggling softly, Yugiri cups his face and peppers his cheeks with kisses before gently licking along them. She then moves down to his neck, nibbling until a hickey appears. The kisses are raw with passion, the oiran’s lust growing by the second.

The prince brushes his fingers through her hair, now wet and soft as silk. The scent of sake and chrysanthemum fills his nose. Her creamy skin is impossibly smooth. He runs his hands downward and grasps her backside with wonder. He clutches at her buttocks marvellously. 

Yugiri feels something warm pressing against her thigh a moment later. She looks down and sees the prince’s arousal. It fills her with even more eagerness, along with a sense of pride. Her perky nipples stiffen, and her loins start to react as well.

“Allow me to take care of that,” she whispers sensually. The prince trembles under her touch. She gives his member a playful flick and murmurs, “I’m going to have so much fun tonight.”

Yugiri toys with him before wrapping her hands around him, stroking gently. A gasp escapes the prince as his member stiffens even  further. Yugiri licks her lips seductively and slowly takes him into her mouth.

“Yugiri!” the prince moans, his expression filled with ecstasy. She glances up, her eyes fluttering.

Yugiri begins sucking on the firm shaft. The sensation was amazing. Her mouth, already wet from the kiss earlier, soon covers the shaft in saliva. She then turns her attention to the tip of his member, teasing it gently with her tongue. The sudden sensation causes the prince to gasp. 

Yugiri prepares for her ultimate surprise. She takes in a deep breath through her nostrils, gently wrapping her arms around the prince’s waist. She then dives down like a falcon, pushing the prince’s member deep into her throat. This is one of her special abilities as an oiran, and it drives men wild. For the prince, it feels nothing short of divine.

“Oh gods!” the prince cries out, his teeth clenching. He can feel his member pulsate unlike ever before. Yugiri’s throat is so tight and warm, and her efforts are so passionate. It does not take long for the prince to approach his limit.

Eager to make the prince cum, she begins massaging the underside of his shaft with her tongue. With a drawn-out moan, the prince blows his load into her mouth. His hot and thick essence hit Yugiri in the back of the throat, and there is so much of it. The first attempt to swallow is already in vain. The oiran pulls back her head, just in time for the second spurt to cover her face. 

The prince can form no words. The feeling coursing through him feels unreal, but it also just feels so right and natural. Every nerve in his body is twitching. It feels like a thousand doses of relief rolled into one. It feels so great and amazing that he wants to shout.

Pleased at her handiwork, Yugiri gladly catches the remainder of his essence on her tongue. The thick fluid is slowly gribbling out of her mouth, flowing onto her breasts. The sight is incredibly erotic, and his shaft remains rock hard.

Still new to this sort of activity, the prince is not sure what to say. A part of him feels like apologizing. “I’m, uh… I’m sorry?”

Yugiri playfully slaps his thigh. “Don’t apologize, my idiot prince. That was spectacular. I can already feel your qi stirring inside me.”

With a mischievous smirk, Yugiri notices the prince admiring her breasts. She is incredibly proud of her breasts, so large, soft, and perky. She lifts them slowly, presenting them like a gift to the dazzled prince.

A delighted smile spreads across the prince’s face. Eyeing them hungrily, he gingerly reaches out to caress them, his touch soft against her silky, wet skin. He cups the soft globes of flesh before starting to fondle them, his findings sinking into her curves. His calloused hands are stiff and strong, but the prince manages to keep them gentle. The oiran sighs in bliss from the sensual massage, a wave of pleasure spreading across her chest.

The ravenous prince could not get enough. He slides into the steamy bath, bringing his face closer to those flawless breasts. He lays a few kisses on her right breast and then the left, his tongue exploring the valley between them. Yugiri whimpers adorably as her breasts are soon covered in a slick combination of cum and saliva.

“Are they as good as you had hoped for?” Yugiri inquires teasingly, softly brushing the prince’s hair. She already knew the answer, but she wants to hear the prince say it.

“They are better than I could have ever imagined,” Hansi replies. He looks up at Yugiri with an affectionate look, the same way a mortal would admire a goddess.

Yugiri cradles the prince tightly, giving him another kiss. “You are mine now, Hansi. Mine to please and protect. I want you so much.”

Before the prince could even react, Yugiri pushes him against the side of the wooden bathtub, causing the water to splash out. She promptly straddles the young prince, causing him to gasp. She smiles most delightfully when she sees that the prince is still stiff and ready.

“Are you ready to make me yours? To share in our dangerous games?”

The prince’s cock twitches in anticipation, and this is all the confirmation the oiran needs. She grabs the thick shaft with one hand, while gently caressing the prince’s face with the other. She gently lowers herself onto him.

The prince moans as he feels the tip of his member press up against Yugiri’s wet folds. She feels so incredibly warm and welcoming. Yugiri lets out a similar moan a moment later, as the shaft starts to slide into her.

“Now it’s time for the main event, my idiot prince,” Yugiri purrs, licking her lips, “Just let me take the lead.”

The prince nods as Yugiri’s tight womanhood takes up more of his cock. Her soft, warm walls are squeezing marvelously against his trembling shaft, and he is desperate for more. He moans in bliss, resting his hands against her hips.

Like a bunny, Yugiri starts to bounce up and down on the thick shaft, cooing adorably.

The prince watches as she rides him like a horse, her breasts jiggling with every movement. He grabs her waist firmly, moving his pelvis to match her thrusts. A muzzled moan escapes from the oiran’s throat. She can feel the heat building up inside her.

The prince gently pulls Yugiri onto his chest as they continue their rhythmic lovemaking. She licks his neck gently, her tongue tracing circles around his Adam’s apple. He wraps his arms around the beautiful woman as they gaze lustfully at one another. 

“You’re filling me up so well…” Yugiri drools. Even though the prince was a virgin, he is a quick learner. He thrusts powerfully against her pelvis, matching her movements. Soon, the tip of his member reaches her most intimate depths. She lets out a surprised gasp as his cock strikes against her tender cervix.

Eager to demonstrate his strength and virility, the prince continues to thrust into her unrelentingly, hitting her cervix with every thrust. Yugiri is soon overwhelmed. She quickly brings the prince into a kiss, moaning into his mouth. Her walls squeeze onto his shaft harder than before. She is approaching her climax, struggling to endure the intense pleasure. 

With a sharp roar, the prince takes one final thrust into Yugiri’s depths. Waves of pleasure reverberate through him as he reaches his climax. Hot ropes of essence shoot out of him, filling her depths.

“Hansi!” Yugiri lets out a primal scream as she reaches her limit, the sound echoing across the baths. A wave of fluid gushes out of her womanhood as the prince slides out of her. Both exhausted, our couple lean back into the bath, catching their breath.

“Tired already?” Yugiri teases, “I was hoping that you would conquer me so thoroughly that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“You naughty vixen,” the prince retorts, resting his hands against her breasts. “You have conquered me more thoroughly than any army ever could. My energy, my heart, my qi , and my innocence. They all belong to you now.”

The two rest for a few minutes, and then move to clean one another. Yugiri lathers up the prince with lavender-scented soap. She gives him a back massage, using her hands and her breasts. She meticulously stimulates all the acupuncture points in the prince’s back before giving him a final kiss.

The prince soon returns the favor. As he applies the soap to her more intimate areas, he catches a view of her beautiful derriere, with his essence still dripping out of her womanhood. Yugiri lets out a knowing wink. “Enjoying the view?” She taunts mischievously.

“You are going to be the death of me one day, Yugiri.”

“And you’ll be the death of me… but what a sweet death it would be.”

“I do feel that this may complicate diplomacy a little.”

Yugiri chuckles, leaning against the prince’s chest. “Who knew that daggers, threats, schemes, and sex could be such powerful diplomatic tools?”

Despite the sarcasm, the prince recognizes the wisdom in her words. Her charm and cunning—combined with sheer determination and well-timed threats—make her a far more formidable diplomat than he could ever be.

The two share a laugh before getting all cleaned. They leave the bath holding hands and head up to Yugiri’s private quarters. They collapse onto the futon simultaneously.

“I meant what I said earlier,” the prince whispers. “About you being my empress. Maybe not in name or my law. But in my heart. Always.”

Yugiri lifts her head, eyes shimmering. “And I’ll be your strategist. Your shield. Your home port.”

They kiss again—slower this time. A promise, not a seduction.

“We have a long day ahead of us,” the prince murmurs, spooning her. “But with you by my side, I feel invincible.”

She squeezes his hands gently. “I’ve got it all figured out. Just worry about pampering your wife tomorrow.”

“I’ve caught such a sly, cunning vixen.”

“No, you idiot prince. I’ve caught you .”

They kiss once more before drifting off to sleep, fingers entwined like sea otters so they won’t drift apart.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Prince Hansi wakes to gentle fingers tracing his cheek. He opens his eyes slowly as dawn paints the room in amber light. Yugiri hovers above him, radiant in a white yukata .

“Good morning, my idiot prince,” Yugiri whispers. “I hope you had sweet dreams last night.”

The prince smiles as he reminisces about the night before. It all felt like a dream. He had arrived in a strange city, found the legendary rebel oiran , and fallen madly in love with her. He blushes as more details flood back—the heat of her skin, the way she moaned and pressed against him, the oath they consummated. It felt like a fairy tale, but the soreness in his limbs (and the faint sting of the hickeys on his neck) confirms it was all very real.

“Last night was beautiful…” he replies, catching her ringed hand. “But I’m also so sore…”

Yugiri lets out a sultry smile. “See? I told you it would be a good time, did I not? Get up. A hearty breakfast can help you recover.”

Downstairs, the inn’s parlour is empty. Yugiri emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray. Prince Hansi’s eyes widen when his nose picks up a sweet, rich aroma.

“You sly vixen,” he exclaims, touched. “How did you know?” Coffee was still a novelty in the Far East at this time, mostly reserved for Westerners. Most natives preferred tea, but a few embraced the new beverage with religious zeal.

“You mentioned you studied in Britain,” Yugiri replies, pleased by the delighted look in his eyes. “Plus, we need energy for the long day ahead.”

Hansi drinks greedily, the rich bitterness transporting him back to the libraries at King’s College London. He went there to learn about the United Kingdom’s international power, but that proved too vast and esoteric for his mind to grasp. He learned to marvel at it—but never to embrace it.

Yugiri sets down breakfast, which also happens to be his favorite. The plate is filled with nikumanju—steamed buns stuffed with meat. He eagerly bites into one and soon smiles with delight. It tastes just like the baozi he used to enjoy in Peking.

“You might know me a little too well, Yugiri,” he teases. “Maybe you’re an agent sent by the Meiji government to seduce and spy on me? Perhaps I should start hiding daggers in my sleeves too.”

“Perhaps that’s why I feel so drawn to you…” Yugiri smiles sweetly, placing her hands over her chest. “It’s like we’ve known each other our whole lives. It feels like I’m completing a circle of something special. There’s plenty of intrigue and danger too, but that just makes things more exciting.”

Hansi gently pinches her cheeks, like one might do to a naughty child. “So poetic. And so damn cute…”

Yugiri pouts, swatting his hand away—but her cheeks flush pink all the same. “Hey! I’m supposed to be the mature one here. I’m supposed to be your strategist.”

“Then what’s today’s strategy, my Zhuge Liang?” he teases, digging into another nikumanju .

Yugiri’s playful tone fades. “Government troops will reach Saga before nightfall. We need a priest’s blessing and marriage papers by then.”

Hansi gulps, then nods. “I don’t have much money on me, but there should be a few more coins in my wallet for bribes.”

Yugiri kisses his cheek. “Leave the talking to me. If the kami favor us, we’ll pay nothing.”

The two soon change for the formal occasion, leaving the inn in the care of a servant. Though traveling light, the prince had packed his most formal and handsome clothes, in a now superfluous effort to impress the legendary oiran .

Dressed in formal chaofu —a blue dragon-embroidered robe and a peacock-feathered hat—Hansi appears especially dignified and regal. The amulets and mala Buddhist prayer beads around his neck clatter as he walks with rhythmic grace. Yugiri, dressed in a stunning white shiromuku kimono, takes a moment to admire him. He looks like he stepped straight out from the pages of an exotic romance novel.

The couple draw stares and gasps of admiration as they walk down the snowy streets. A young child with blue hair covered in ribbons lets out a delighted laugh upon seeing the well-dressed couple, eyeing the iridescent peacock feathers on Hansi’s hat. The prince, hoping to win favor from the gods and the city’s citizens, gifts the child one of his feathers. Her eyes go wide, and she drools as she accepts the gift. The warm display melts the hearts of all the bystanders—Yugiri included.

Yugiri grabs Hansi’s hand as they continue on their way. “Were those feathers too heavy?” she teases. “Are you so sore from last night that you need help carrying them?”

“Just my ego,” he quips.

She clutches her chest dramatically. “Oh gods, carrying your ego is a Herculean task! May the kami grant me the strength to do this.”

Hansi grins, brushing her collarbone. “Then I will carry your heart. It is just as big and heavy.”

Yugiri’s breath hitches. “It is already yours. Be gentle with it.”

The couple soon reach the Shinto shrine, standing serene amid snow-dusted pines. It’s the only shrine in the city, but it feels so different from the bustling Buddhist temples Hansi is used to. There are no crowds, no merchants peddling amulets, and no bonfires of incense. Just peace and quiet. He hesitates, unfamiliar with the customs.

“Do you know Shintoism well?” he asks.

“Raised in it,” Yugiri replies. “But I also practice some Buddhism. That’s very common in Japan. I hope you’re okay with worshipping Shinto deities as well.”

Hansi nods. “Today, we need every deity’s favor.”

Yugiri guides Hansi through the purification rituals—washing hands and rinsing mouths. “After we’re cleansed, we can make our wishes known to the kami,” she explains.

“The kami definitely remember what we did last night,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Yugiri blushes furiously and smacks his arm. “Be serious for once, you idiot prince. This is a sacred place!” She grabs him before he can make another flippant remark. Their laughter fades as the weight of the day returns—heavy and cold, like the snow beneath their feet.

They walk beneath the torii gates, hand in hand. They arrive at an altar dedicated to Inari Ōkami, the kami of foxes, fertility, and fortune.

The altar and statue are rustic and modest, but that only adds to the charm for Prince Hansi. He immediately prostrates himself before the altar. “Dear Inari,” he prays, “please grant us eternal love, happiness, and safety.”

To guarantee divine favor, Hansi then repeats the prayer five more times—to different deities and ancestors—in Mandarin, Manchu, Tibetan, Mongolian, and finally English. Unknown to Yugiri, each prayer includes a second sentence: “Please grant us new adventures.”

Yugiri takes a different approach. She places a silver coin in the saisen collection box, clasps her hands, and whispers a prayer so quiet Hansi cannot hear: “Keep Kiichi safe. Let Hansi and I find peace.”

She rings the shrine bell three times—once for Kiichi, once for Hansi, and once for herself.

The tolling bell echoes through the pines—clear and solemn—followed by a familiar voice.

“Yugiri-san!”

A white-haired miko sprints toward Yugiri, her ice-blue eyes sparkling with joy. Junko Konno, the shrine maiden, gives the oiran a tight hug. Yugiri eagerly returns it and produces a bag of konpeitō candies. The miko excitedly sucks on several before hiding the rest in the folds of her red hakama . It’s like a reunion between an onee-san and her cute imōto, and Hansi smiles at the heartwarming sight.

Junko sees Hansi for the first time. With his strange attire and peacock-feathered hat, he looks like a figure from a hanging scroll. She watches him with fascination, then pulls on Yugiri’s kimono sleeve, pointing at him. “Who is this man you’ve brought, Yugiri-san?”

“I am Prince Aisin-Gioro Hansi,” he replies with a bow. “We are engaged to be married.”

Junko blinks, stunned. “A Manchu prince? Since when—?” Her colorful expression sparks a sense of playfulness in Yugiri’s eyes.

Yugiri gives Hansi a mischievous glance, and he instantly understands. The couple decide to mess with the innocent miko . She looks too cute when confused.

“This kitsune ,” Hansi declares, pointing an accusatory finger at Yugiri, “has enchanted me with her spells and seduced me with her charms. She has stolen my innocence—and my qi .”

Yugiri gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest and grabbing her kaiken dagger. “You foreign devil!” she cries, barely hiding her grin. “Don’t you know we kitsune are honored at this shrine? Inari shall curse you to freeze to death!”

Junko bursts out laughing, nearly choking on her konpeitō . Their laughter spreads like wildfire and takes a minute to subside.

Junko wipes away tears of laughter. “I see why you’re smitten, Hansi-sama. Yugiri has always been captivating.”

“To both men and women,” Yugiri adds, winking.

Hansi’s brow lifts. Just how talented was this oiran ? How many hearts had she stolen? It doesn’t surprise him that Yugiri could charm women too, but hearing her admit it so honestly only deepens his respect and admiration.

Junko finally notices the ring on Yugiri’s finger. Her eyes widen at the sight of the shining crimson rubies. “This is so beautiful. You’re a fortunate woman, Yugiri-san. When are you getting married?”

“Today,” Yugiri answers. “It’s a most unusual request, but we don’t have much time.”

Junko gasps. “Why the hurry?”

“Government troops are coming,” Yugiri replies sharply. “Marrying Prince Hansi grants me diplomatic immunity. Any delay could cost me everything I hold dear—and I won’t let that happen…”

She chokes up mid-sentence. No tears fall—only steely resolve.

Junko turns pale, heart pounding. “I’ll fetch the kannushi —but he can be… stubborn. I’ll put in a good word and pray for your success.”

As Junko runs off, Hansi holds Yugiri’s hands. They are icy cold. He tries to comfort her. “This is it,” he whispers, breath forming a white cloud. “Are you ready to become my wife?”

“I’m ready to become an empress,” Yugiri responds, eyes full of excitement. “Though I never imagined my life would lead to this… marrying a foreign prince to help restore Saga.”

“The kami work in mysterious ways,” Hansi muses. “And the paths of fate are unpredictable.”

Junko soon returns with the priest—a stern-faced old man, the kannushi, divine master of the temple. Hardened by the Boshin War, his expression darkens at the sight of Yugiri and curdles to open hostility upon seeing Hansi.

“A gaijin and a rebel oiran? The kami would never bless this filth!”

Yugiri flinches at the venom in his voice. Hansi, however, drops to his knees, pressing his forehead to the frozen ground. “Please. I am a devout man. I offer gifts from Yonghe Temple in Peking.” He produces a golden Buddha amulet.

The priest scoffs. “This is a Shinto shrine. Your foreign idols mean nothing here.”

Yugiri kneels beside her fiancé. “ Kannushi, I have worshipped here for years. I swear to the kami that our love is true. I beg you to reconsider.”

Her pleas only anger him further. “You come with blood on your hands,” he spits. “Your rebellion has cost lives. The spirit of Shojiro Ito knows what you have done.”

The bitter accusation and Ito’s name strike deep. Yugiri lets out a bitter wail as tears fall. Ito’s dying words echo in her ears as everything spins. She slams her head against the frozen ground, heart pounding. Deep down, part of her feels she deserves the retribution.

“I promise to atone, Kannushi ,” she whispers between sobs. “But I must live to earn their forgiveness. I must live—for Saga, for Kiichi, for Shojiro Ito, and for him.”

The priest watches her tears. His face shifts from anger to something resembling pity.

Junko steps forward. “Kannushi , you taught us that the kami are infinitely merciful. Yugiri-san was fighting for her friends and for Saga. Her heart is true.”

He strokes his beard. Though his heart remains hardened, he knows the kami work through trials. At last, he speaks.

“Show me your devotion to one another, and perhaps I will reconsider,” he declares, drawing a smile from Junko. “I will observe the heavens for a sign from the kami . If they deem your union worthy, I will bless it.”

Yugiri bows, tearfully grateful.

“Manchu prince,” he continues with a smirk, “you must undergo a misogi ritual to cleanse yourself and prove your love. Begin immediately, and continue until the sun is at its peak.”

Hansi looks up with gratitude, unaware of what misogi entails. “Thank you, divine master. I humbly accept.”

Yugiri and Junko exchange horrified glances.