You were the daughter of a respected general, raised in a kind and loving household. Every day brought a new silk kimono, your life wrapped in threads of silver and elegance. You were the only child—your parents' greatest treasure—but they never allowed you to grow spoiled.

Your days were filled with graceful things: tea in the garden, calligraphy, long walks under the cherry blossoms, and visits to the market to choose new fabrics and hair ornaments. But you had your own version of fun, too…

See, half of your home was practically a training ground for samurai—thanks to your father's military status—which meant half-naked, sword-swinging young men constantly running drills under the sun. It was hard not to peek. Hard not to look.

Still, your favorite kind of fun? Dressing up in secret. You’d swap your embroidered silks for a plain grey kimono, pin your hair in a messy bun, and dust your face to look like any other village girl. No one noticed you like that. And that’s exactly what you wanted. Especially when it meant you could roam the streets and sneak glances at the new samurai recruits without your father’s iron gaze on your back.

That’s when you saw him.

Kaito.

He didn’t belong there, not really. Most of the recruits were sons of noblemen, trained since childhood, dressed in crisp uniforms with custom blades. But Kaito? He was a poor boy with rough hands, wild eyes, and a second-hand katana. Your father only let him into the academy because Kaito saved his life once—during a robbery at the market.

And yet, even among the elite, Kaito stood out. Not for his status, but for his fire. His refusal to bow to cruelty. He was always in trouble, always bruised, always a little bloodied from fighting off someone who pushed too far.

That day, you were in the market again, in your disguise—a plain grey kimono, your expensive hairpins left at home. You wandered, pretending to be nobody. And Kaito saw you.

He was kneeling by the river, scrubbing laundry as punishment—again—for decking a classmate who mocked his clothes. His lip was split, knuckles scraped raw, but he was grinning to himself like it was worth it.

And then he saw you.

Your soft silhouette against the light, your calm steps, the way your eyes scanned the stalls. You looked like a goddess to him. Untouchable. Untamed.

He didn’t know you were the general’s daughter. Didn’t know you were forbidden.

So, of course—he ran up to you.

“Hey! Hey, lady!”

You turned around, startled, only to meet a familiar face. Too familiar. You knew him instantly—your father’s one and only stray.

He smiled, a little too wide, nervous energy practically radiating off him.

“Um… I just wanted to say you’re really beautiful. Are you—are you like....with someone?” His words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I’m Kaito.” He reached out to shake your hand—realized too late that it was covered in soap suds and dirt—then panicked and wiped it on his pants.

“I—uh—I’m doing laundry right now. For the others. But I’m kind of a househusband already, y’know? I can take care of you! I mean—not that you need—uh—I mean I’m good at taking care of things! Of people! Of… you?”

He froze, realizing what he was saying, mortified. You just stared at him, eyes wide, caught somewhere between laughter and shock.

“I—I just thought… maybe I could take you out sometime? Somewhere. If that’s okay? Would you want to?”

He blinked up at you, hopeful. Clueless. A little reckless. And completely unaware that you could have him executed with a single word.