Truth and Lies

Akira was exhausted. Ever since they had imprisoned him, time had lost all meaning. Each day blurred into the next as he was forced into backbreaking labour, too grueling for his aging body. Fatigue had become the norm, wearing him down with each passing hour.

But lately, even his mental strength had begun to wane. He knew that if this continued, he wouldn’t last much longer. All he wished for now was one final glimpse of his brave granddaughter, his only hope that continued to shine.

In the oppressive stillness of his dark cell, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps broke the silence. Slowly, he lifted his head.

“So you’re still alive, hm? Just how much does it take to break you?”

A deep voice reached Akira’s ears, its coldness cutting through the air. He couldn’t make out the figure in the shadows, but he would recognise this voice even in the darkest corners of the world. This voice was forever etched in his memory. After all, it belonged to the one man who had served him so faithfully.

“Mamoru… It’s been a while.”

“Indeed, it has. I must admit, I’m deeply impressed. We expected you to last for some months, maybe a few years at most.”

Mamoru snorted ironically. Akira was aware his words weren’t meant as a compliment, but rather as dismissive mockery.

“How long has it been exactly, Mamoru?”

“Since your ‘accident,’ you mean?” Mamoru placed a hand on his chin, feigning deep thought. “Let’s see… It was just after Mahiru turned six, wasn’t it? So that must have been 13 years ago.”

“M-Mahiru!”

Akira’s breath caught in his throat as soon as he heard his granddaughter’s name. Just hearing it stirred a flicker of hope deep in his chest.

“Mahiru… So she’s a grown woman now…”

“Indeed she is. And as rebellious as ever.” Mamoru’s voice turned bitter. “She's been nothing but trouble for me lately. Just how much were you able to brainwash her in such a short time?”

“You know very well I didn’t brainwash her! All I did was tell her the truth – the very truth you’re desperate to keep hidden.”

Mamoru smirked, unfazed by Akira’s remark.

“You’re mistaken, Akira. Truth or lies, none of it matters here. In the end, Master Kenji is the one who gets to decide what’s right and wrong. Your opinion has never carried any weight.”

“Maybe, but she knows the only truth that matters. Once she gets the chance, I’m sure she will finally serve justice.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

Mamoru stepped closer to the gate, his smirk widening with each inch he closed. He was about to tell Akira the one thing that could crush his spirit – the final piece of Kenji’s perfect plan.

“Wh-what do you mean, Mamoru? Don’t tell me…”

“Let’s just say we have finally managed to get rid of her. You have failed, Akira,” Mamoru told him in a cold voice, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction.

“What?!”

Akira rushed to the gate with what little strength he had left. He knew there was no way for him to get out, still he kicked and punched the bars as hard as he could.

“What have you done to her, Mamoru?” he screamed, pushing his voice to its limits, only to cough up blood in the process.

But Mamoru’s expression remained cold, unfazed.

“It doesn’t matter. She won’t be a pain anymore, that’s all we care about. You can scream all you want, but she’s not coming to rescue you.”

“Why are you doing all this? Weren’t you supposed to protect her? Then why are you willingly standing on the wrong side of history? You’re from the West as well, Mamoru! How could you forget that?!”

“Tsk.”

Mamoru clicked his tongue in anger, his fingers gripping the bars tightly.

“My past does not matter in the slightest. You asked me to take care of your granddaughter, right? Well, this is what’s best for her, Akira.”

“...What?”

Their hands brushed against each other for a short moment. It was the first time in 13 years Akira had felt the touch of his former servant.

It felt as comforting as back then.

⸻⸻⸻⸻❊❊❊⸻⸻⸻⸻

The long-awaited Freedom Day had finally arrived, and with that, it was time for Mahiru to attend the fireworks with Kousei.

Ever since he’d told her about it, Mahiru had been eagerly waiting for it. A day with festivities dedicated entirely to the end of the war, celebrating the freedom that came with it – it was the complete opposite from the East, where everyone detested the war and what came with it. How could two sides of what used to be the same country have such a different understanding of this crucial event from their past?

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Mahiru studied her reflection, her fingers lightly brushing over the fabric of her yukata. Mamoru had clearly thought ahead when packing for her — among the clothes, there were a few elegant dresses and a yukata, all carefully chosen for the festivals she might attend.

“Are you unsure about your choice, Mahirun?” Yuuna asked, her voice light as she applied her own make-up beside her, glancing over with a knowing smile.

Yuuna wore a yellow yukata adorned with delicate, bright floral patterns. Her dark hair was expertly styled up in a round bun, the softly applied make-up highlighting her feminine features.

Though Yuuna had always exuded a radiant presence, today, she seemed to shine brighter than the sun. Next to her, Mahiru couldn’t help but feel…plain in comparison.

“Yes…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I rarely got the chance to wear yukatas at home, so I feel a little strange in it. And…”

What would Kousei think if he saw me like this?

Mahiru stared back at Yuuna, but the words she wanted to say remained trapped in her throat, heavy with uncertainty.

Yes, she and Kousei had kissed two weeks ago, and they’d even started sharing the same bed at night since then. As far as Mahiru was concerned, they were actually dating now, and she was sure Kousei felt the same. But that only made her more self-conscious about the choice of her outfit.

She wanted to look her best for him.

She…didn’t want to disappoint him.

Yuuna sighed, her gaze softening as she sensed Mahiru’s unease. Her own female instincts were just too sharp to miss what was going on.

“This is about my brother, right? You’re not sure if he’ll like it?”

Mahiru blinked, her mouth slightly agape, caught off guard by Yuuna’s insight.

“Y-yes…”

“Oh, sweet, little Mahirun.” Yuuna wrapped her arm around Mahiru’s shoulder, laughing warmly.

“D-don’t call me little! We’re the same age!”

“Look, my brother’s head over heels for you, so it really doesn’t matter what you wear. As long as it’s still you under those clothes, he’ll definitely love it.”

“Yuuna… You really think so?”

A sudden, overwhelming urge to embrace Yuuna washed over Mahiru. Despite being the same age, Yuuna’s sweet praise made her feel almost childlike, while the meaning behind her words carried a maturity that made her seem much older.

Just as Mahiru wanted to thank her, that evil smirk appeared on Yuuna’s face.

“Of course! Want me to prove it to you?”

“What?”

Mahiru’s eyes teared open, but before she could react, Yuuna had already shoved her out of the bathroom.

Standing in the hallway, feeling as disoriented as a fish stranded on land, the first thing Mahiru noticed was Kousei’s surprised gaze, fixed on her.

“Mahiru?”