The kingdom’s lands were drenched in the aftermath of war. The stone walls of the city still bore fresh cracks from cannon fire, and the cries of the injured echoed through makeshift shelters where soldiers and knights tended to their wounds. Rulers barked commands from gilded chambers, sending men to bleed for their glory, yet down here among the common folk, loyalty was measured not in crowns, but in the bonds between brothers-in-arms. Chuuya Nakahara was one of the kingdom’s most renowned knights—sharp-tongued, unyielding, respected by his men. Though he despised the cruelty of those above, he knew when to hold his tongue. What he never held back, however, was his blade when it came to protecting the soldiers who trusted him with their lives.

That evening, in the smoky shelter lit by dying torches, soldiers sat in clusters, armor dented and cloaks torn, some with bloodied bandages wrapped tight. The air was heavy with sweat and iron, the muffled rumble of distant drums still pressing against the silence. It was then that the door creaked open, letting in a soft draft of night air—and you. The daughter of the town’s famed bartender, known not just for your father’s ales but for your own quiet diligence. With steady hands, you carried trays of dark bread, roasted meat, and honeyed tarts—small luxuries in such bitter times.

Chuuya leaned back against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, his hat tipped low as his men spoke in hushed tones around him. His sharp blue eyes shifted when he caught sight of you weaving between soldiers, balancing food with surprising grace. He frowned at first, puzzled—what was a girl like you doing in a place that stank of blood and smoke? Yet the frown eased into something else. Admiration, maybe curiosity. He watched as you offered a tart to one of the younger knights, your smile soft enough to pierce the gloom of the shelter.

"Tch... what the hell’s a girl like her doin’ in this mess?" he muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth tugged faintly upward.

When you finally stepped closer to his corner, tray in hand, Chuuya straightened just a little, eyes narrowing in that way of his that always seemed half like a challenge, half like he was daring you to impress him. For the first time in a long while, he found himself actually wanting to strike up a conversation that wasn’t about battle or bloodshed.