Chapter 30 – Flowers and Illusions

Ren and Yura explained their plan to the soldiers and officers who had once served under Yukino’s banner. The men and women listened in silence—like people clinging to the last spark of hope.

“And that’s all.” Yura’s tone was firm, almost like that of a battle-hardened general. Her words did not tremble, nor did they seek applause. Only certainty.

The soldiers exchanged glances, and soon a cheer rose within the hall. It wasn’t the wild roar of euphoria, but the restrained cry of those who, after years of oppression, were beginning to remember what it meant to believe in something.

Ren observed quietly. He had allowed Yura to speak, to shoulder the weight of the Aseina legacy. And as he watched the veterans respond to her voice, he realized that the winters of Antarctica had forged more than a swordswoman—they had shaped a leader.

The cheering faded, and the men began to disperse, each one carrying with them the seed of a rebellion that had just begun to sprout.

Moments later, the village elders arrived at the Aseina residence, bearing simple offerings: baskets of fruit, hidden relics, objects that had survived the Shogun’s repression. More than food or memories, they were the living soul of a people who refused to forget.

One elderly woman stepped forward, carrying a long case with both hands. Her steps were slow, but her voice rang clear, filled with solemnity.

“Lady Aseina… you may not remember me, but I was close to your mother.”

Yura studied her intently. A flicker of recognition surfaced on her lips.

“I think I remember… Jenis, isn’t it?”

The woman’s eyes welled with emotion.

“I see your memory is as strong as your spirit. I bring something your mother entrusted to me… something she asked me to give you when you turned fifteen.”

Yura knelt and slowly opened the case. The first thing she saw was a black scabbard, adorned with white sakura blossoms. Her fingers trembled as they touched it. With reverence, she drew the blade: a polished edge, gleaming with the clarity of an untainted winter.

“I believe your mother called it… Sakuragiri, if my memory serves,” Jenis whispered, her eyes misty.

“Sakuragiri…” Yura echoed softly, her voice trembling as if she were speaking to her mother’s shadow.

Ren crossed his arms, and for the first time in a long while, his words carried a spark of pride.

“A weapon worthy of a liberator, if you ask me.”

The hall was still wrapped in reverent silence when, suddenly, the lamps flickered. Dancing shadows spread across the walls, as if fire itself had come alive. A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” a melodious voice rang out. “Yukihana has waited far too long for a spectacle worthy of its return!”

The smoke from the braziers swirled into shapes: spectral samurai bowing to Yura, snowbirds flapping their wings, sakura blossoms blooming and closing in the frozen air. It was a theater of illusions—dazzling and unsettling all at once.

Out of the display stepped a young woman with silver hair tinged in blue, wrapped in a plain kimono that stood in stark contrast to the extravagance of her magic. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her smile belonged more to an actress than a warrior.

“Honored audience, allow me to introduce myself! I am Luisina Fontaine, illusionist mage. I’ve fought the Shogun’s forces with my illusions, and I would like to join your rising army,” she declared with theatrical flair.

Some of the freed soldiers whispered uneasily; others frowned, as though the interruption were a slight against Yukino’s memory. But Ren only narrowed his eyes.

“An illusionist… interesting,” he murmured.

“Bah, she’s just a girl with cheap tricks,” Lilith scoffed, clearly offended.

That’s because you’re the Demon Queen… you can’t be compared to anyone, Ren thought, annoyed at his ally’s attitude.

Luisina smiled as though she’d been waiting for that exact reaction.

“Exactly! I may not be the strongest, but mind games are my specialty,” she added, spinning her top hat between her fingers.

The whispers turned into uncertainty. Yet Yura, with Sakuragiri still in her hands, didn’t see frivolity in the display—she saw someone useful. And Ren, with the cold mind of a strategist, understood this girl wasn’t just a spectacle: she was a piece that could serve Ópera.

“Why should we trust your word?” Yura finally asked.

“Oh, my lady, you’re right… I didn’t serve your mother the way the others here did. But let me tell you this: I will never forgive the Shogun for destroying my home.”

“Akagami was devastated after his arrival, ten years ago. Since then, I’ve lived for vengeance.”

Her words weighed down the hall with silence. Luisina smirked mischievously and pulled several scrolls from her hat.

“Besides… I have classified information about a certain forbidden weapon. But more importantly…”

That caught both Yura’s and Ren’s attention.

“I know the exact location of a girl overflowing with mana. Without her, that weapon would suffer a serious delay… seeing as mage-elves are in short supply. So? What do you say? Will you let me help you?”

Ren stepped forward.

“Interesting, without a doubt. How about you join my cause? I need someone like you on my team.” He held out a white feather set into a brooch. “Every great performance needs a brilliant illusionist… don’t you think, Aria?”

“Sounds fun… but what do I get out of this besides a feather and a stage name?” she asked with playful audacity.

Ren let out a quiet laugh.

“The chance to take part in the greatest Opera this world has ever seen. And in it, the spotlight will be ours.”

Luisina dismissed all her illusions. Her face lit up with genuine excitement—something no one had ever seen on a Yuki before.

“You had my curiosity… now you have my full attention.”

And so, that afternoon, every step brought Ren closer to his grand performance—the moment when the world itself would change forever. With a new member added to Opera, their final spectacle felt closer than ever.