When Hearts Strike

The early morning light slowly washed over Akarihoshi Palace, golden-violet rays streaming through the tall windows, glinting off the polished marble floors and the floating ornate crystal chandeliers. Prisms of color scattered across the vaulted ceilings, turning the hall into a soft, ethereal sea of light. The air hummed faintly, alive with residual energy—a reminder that this palace was more than just a royal residence; it was a vessel of power itself.

Within the quiet hall, Akihiko stood before King Raiden, his deep blue eyes steady yet shadowed with concern. The weight of his thoughts pressed lightly on his shoulders, but he held himself with disciplined composure.

“Your Majesty,” he began, bowing respectfully. “I would like to speak about Aiko.”

The king lifted his gaze, calm and resolute. “Of course, Akihiko. What troubles you?”

Akihiko clenched his fist at his side. “I… I fear Aiko has too many responsibilities. Her days are filled with lessons, protocols, visits to allied planets… It’s a lot for her, especially considering she was until recently… just a normal girl.”

King Raiden nodded thoughtfully, the soft glow of the morning light reflecting in his eyes. “Akihiko, Aiko is a princess. That comes with responsibilities, as all princesses carry. One day, she will stand by your side, guiding our world together with you. Her path is not easy, but it is meant for her—and for our people.”

Akihiko took a deep breath, voice tight with worry. “I understand, Your Majesty… but it feels unfair. She was a normal girl—free, unburdened. Now she is weighed down by duties I have carried since birth. Her life should have at least a moment of lightness before she becomes a princess.”

A gentle smile touched King Raiden’s lips, golden light glinting in his eyes. “Akihiko, your concern is true. I know your intent is to protect her. But your duty as a prince is not only to guard, but also to guide. One day, you will be together—and during this time, Aiko will grow strong enough to face any challenge. She is no longer the ‘ordinary girl’ you speak of… but she will never lose herself. And you will be there to stand by her until she is ready. Patience and care, Akihiko.”

Akihiko left the hall, heart set with determination, yet his thoughts remained entangled with concern for Aiko. His desire burned bright: to protect her not only as a princess but as the girl who once lived freely—a girl who deserved to remain, at least in part, herself before stepping fully into her royal path.

In the expansive training hall, sunlight streamed through towering stained glass windows, painting the room in molten hues of dawn—fiery reds, soft oranges, and delicate blues that flowed like liquid brushstrokes across the polished floor. Aiko and Akihiko stood poised across from one another, the faint scent of morning dew and moonflowers drifting through the open balcony doors, mingling with the tang of polished steel.

“You’re still too fast,” Akihiko said lightly, deflecting her strike effortlessly. The blade rang against his own, ringing out like a soft bell in the quiet hall. “If you rush forward like that, you lose your balance.”

Aiko exhaled softly, a strand of her reddish hair clinging to her damp forehead. She steadied herself, swinging again with more care—but Akihiko intercepted her blade with ease. Instead of scolding her, he lowered his weapon and stepped closer, the warmth of his presence brushing against her shoulder.

“But you’re improving,” he murmured quietly, his voice low and calm. “And that’s what matters most.”

Warmth spread in Aiko’s chest, a flicker of color in her cheeks. Training had always been exhausting, but sharing it with him transformed every laborious movement into something precious, each bead of sweat into a shared triumph.

She raised her blade once more, and this time, as Akihiko caught her strike, his hands lingered—not just on hers, but guiding them gently, their fingers brushing. Aiko’s breath caught, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. The world outside seemed to fade—the colors of the hall, the morning light, even the distant call of birds—until there was only him, and the shared rhythm of their movements.

In that suspended moment, he leaned closer under the pretense of adjusting her grip. Her pulse spiked, a shiver racing along her spine. And then, in the quiet intimacy of their closeness, Akihiko’s lips brushed softly against hers—a fleeting, stolen kiss that was both tender and grounding. It was a whisper of warmth, a promise that neither words nor distance could diminish. Aiko froze, eyes wide, the glow of his aura—the pure white-and-blue light that always seemed to pulse in tune with his emotions—wrapping around them both like a protective cocoon.

She blinked, heart hammering, as Akihiko pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Balance,” he said softly, almost teasing, “in more ways than one.”

Her hands trembled slightly in his grip, and for a heartbeat, the world felt like it had shrunk to the space between them. The lesson continued, yet every strike, every parry, every careful step was now colored by the memory of that moment, a shared secret suspended in the golden morning light.

At last, they lowered their weapons. Aiko wiped the sweat from her brow, and Akihiko, ever gentle, tucked a rebellious strand of her hair behind her ear. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said quietly. “Every day, you grow.”

Aiko’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. Training was exhausting—but every drop of effort was worth it, because it was shared.

But the day’s duties were unrelenting. After their session, her schedule pressed on like a tide she could not resist:

Morning: visits to allied planets—ceremonial greetings, introductions, and palace tours.

Afternoon: lessons in etiquette, posture, and diplomacy, decoding subtle expressions and movements.

Evening: studying the histories of alliances and adversaries, learning the hidden politics that shaped the galaxy.

Every sigh she tried to conceal was met with gentle reminders: she was a princess now, destined to one day ascend to the throne. Aiko nodded obediently, though her muscles ached and her mind swirled with the endless weight of expectation.

That night, Aiko collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. The weight of lessons, protocols, and duties pressed heavily upon her. She closed her eyes, seeking solace under the familiar stars.

But in her dreams, the calm night sky warped into endless shadow. Whispers slithered through the darkness—soft, persuasive, impossible to ignore:

“Come… leave it all behind… step closer… be free…”

Aiko struggled, feeling an invisible force pulling her toward a black crystalline platform suspended in the void. The air felt cold, the darkness vast, swallowing even the faint light of her star-shaped pendant. Another voice, deeper and more commanding, echoed in her mind:

“Why do you fight? You do not need this burden. Step closer… and it will all end.”

Her heart raced. Every instinct screamed to resist, yet a weary part of her—the part that longed for relief—trembled at the promise. The shadows twisted, reaching for her very essence, trying to sever her from the world she knew.

Then, a surge of white-and-blue light flared across the distance. Akihiko. Though far away, she could feel his energy threading through hers, firm and protective, tethering her across the void.

“Do not take her!” his thought thundered through the bond, unwavering.

His aura wrapped around her like a cocoon, pushing back the shadow’s tendrils, radiating warmth and certainty. The voices hissed and shrieked, fading under the strength of their connection, but they lingered just enough to make her shiver.

“This… is not over,” a faint, distant whisper threatened. “You cannot always save her.”

Yet Aiko’s chest filled with warmth, her body safe within Akihiko’s protective light. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She lay in her bed, the shadows of the dream dissipating, heart still racing. Though Akihiko was not beside her, she could feel him through the bond—the pulse of his energy steady, anchoring her, reminding her she was never truly alone.

Trembling, she whispered into the silence, “Akihiko… someone… someone called me…”

Akihiko, far away, closed his eyes and clenched his fist. White-and-blue energy pulsed stronger than ever. "Do not fear. As long as we are connected, no one can take you from me."

Yet a shadow of fear gnawed at him. Her voice—so fragile, so uncertain—had reached him across the distance, and the thought of Aiko in danger tightened his chest. He felt powerless, separated by space, unable to reach her in the moment she needed him most. His heart pounded violently, a mix of determination and raw fear.

“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t anything good. It wants to reach Aiko. What if I’m not fast enough?” he whispered to the emptiness around him, the bond between them the only lifeline he could cling to. “What if she… gets hurt?”

Even as he radiated protective energy, the fear lingered—Akihiko’s mind refused to let go of the image of her suspended in that shadowy void, the voices pulling at her, threatening her freedom. He had to stay strong. He had to be her shield, even from afar.

The white-and-blue light around him flared, pulsating with both resolve and fear. Every heartbeat was a silent promise: I will not let you fall, Aiko.