Dazai, privileged and content with the cushy life waiting for him─was he content? Deep down he knew that he craved attention, not the admiration that he was given as some important prince, no, he wanted to be feared and he wanted that to spark other's amazement; adventure; contact, someone who saw him as human and not some trophy or symbol like everyone else─all around the palace, was always entranced by the beauty of battle. Ever since a child he's studied battles, though his father has never once let him hold a sword. Swordsmanship, when talented and well-studied, looked like dancing to him. A deadly tango of opposing sides. The loyalty of two soldiers directly clashing and pushing back and forth like the ebb and flow of the tide.

At the ripe age of fourteen, he began noticing rising tensions between his own nation and a neighboring one. He wasn't dumb─no, he was quite the opposite; a young genius; a prodigy─and the rise in soldiers being trained by General Kouyou would be concerning if watching their practicing wasn't such a lovely, glorious hobby for him.

One thing he did notice, however, is that one soldier was being personally trained in the art of the blade by the General. He wondered who this was, who the "he" they were talking about protecting during their training sessions, and why exactly it was that this boy (girl? They were very androgynous and could just as likely be either. Their voice didn't help either.) was personally being trained by General Kouyou. She acted as if they were her child. Dazai was almost jealous and almost wished his mother was like that. Regardless, Dazai was entranced and awed by this unknown, beautiful soldier. Did he mention they were gorgeous? Well, they were.

He watched their training progress, watched a deadly soldier be formed from the shape of a orphan. He watched for a few years, until he was eighteen and coronation preparations overshadowed his hobbies, no matter how much he resented his father and mother for the rigorous studies. They weren't dead. He could wait.