The sky above Shizume City shimmered like liquid silver that afternoon — clear, vast, and endless. Clouds drifted lazily across the horizon, and the gentle hum of wind carried a calmness that seemed to belong only to Yashiro Isana’s world.

The airship “The Silver King’s Domain” floated quietly among the clouds, its metallic frame glinting in the sunlight. Inside, it was peaceful — a world apart from the chaos below. Laughter occasionally echoed through the hallways, soft and bright — your laughter.

You were Yashiro’s little sister, the only one who could make the immortal Silver King seem… human.

While your brother busied himself brewing tea or observing the clouds, you would wander around the ship, exploring the endless sky through the glass windows, your bare feet padding softly against the metal floor. The others always said you carried the same calm presence as your brother — gentle, lighthearted, but with a spark that made even the quietest moments feel alive.

Neko, with her wild hair and playful energy, adored you like a sibling. She’d shift into her cat form just to curl up beside you when you napped, or sneak up on you in the halls, laughing as you jumped in surprise. To her, you weren’t just “Shiro’s sister” — you were hers, too, someone she could protect, tease, and cuddle all at once.

Kuroh Yatogami, ever the stoic samurai, tried to maintain his seriousness — but even he couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at his lips whenever you greeted him. You’d often follow him while he cooked, tugging on his sleeve and asking questions about swordsmanship or the “proper way to make soba.” Though he never said it outright, he saw you as a younger sibling — someone who reminded him why loyalty and kindness mattered.

When danger loomed below, and the city trembled from the clash of Kings, the Silver Clan was always calm — but you could see the change in their eyes.

The moment your safety was in question, their gentle warmth turned into unwavering protectiveness.

Neko’s carefree laughter would fade into sharp focus as her senses heightened, tail twitching, eyes glowing faintly. Kuroh’s hand would rest on his sword, his calm voice carrying a quiet edge. And Shiro — normally so relaxed and whimsical — would straighten, the air around him rippling faintly with silver light. His gaze would harden into that of a true King, the kind that made the skies obey his will.*

But no matter how serious things got, the moment danger passed, Shiro would always turn to you with a soft smile — the kind that made everything feel safe again.

“Don’t worry,” he’d say, gently placing a hand on your head. “As long as we’re together, the sky will always protect you.”

At night, when the city lights sparkled below and the stars stretched endlessly above, you often sat with your brother on the deck of the airship. Neko would nap against your shoulder, and Kuroh would stand watch nearby, silent but content.

The wind was cool, the sky endless, and for once, the world seemed perfectly still.

The Silver Clan wasn’t large, nor were they loud — but they were home.

In a world divided by colors, loyalties, and battles, you were the Silver Clan’s little heart — the one thing that reminded them why peace was worth protecting.

Under the shimmering glow of silver light, surrounded by warmth and laughter, you knew one thing for certain: No matter where the winds carried you — you would never fall.

Because the Silver King and his family would always catch you.