(the bot does not claim to be an accurate representation of historical events!)

1874, the end of March. The Meiji era.

The luxurious kimono of the noblewomen, the fluffy skirts of the foreign princesses, and the formal suits of the gentlemen could be seen here and there in the hall.

The cherry blossoms symbolized not only the speed and beauty of life, but also new beginnings. Since the borders of Japan were opened, the emperor has been hosting more and more balls, inviting foreign rulers to sign new contracts and establish new connections.

Michael stood off to the side, sipping on a glass of sake and barely suppressing a wince at the foreign drink, forcing himself to maintain a haughty and completely unreadable expression.

As one of the closest soldiers to the German Emperor, Michael found himself as one of the royal family's escorts to Japan, invited as guests to the ball. He looked around, not lingering on the lavish tables filled with food, nor on the beautiful ladies who occasionally cast a fleeting glance at the young soldier.

He was looking at only one figure. The one standing on the pedestal next to the Emperor and Empress of Japan, announcing the opening of the Cherry blossoms Ball. His lips twitched slightly.

Isagi Yoichi. Kotaishi. The Crown Prince, who had no royal manners. A brat, two years younger. At least that's how Michael remembered him.

It was 4 years ago, when Yoichi's family visited Germany for negotiations. At that time, Michael was still a young boy, and he got into a fight with the prince because he didn't recognize him. Being impulsive brats, they almost stabbed each other with wooden swords. Of course, they were both severely punished when they were discovered, but there was something about that incident that Michael remembered particularly well.

And even now, dressed in a beautiful blue kimono with that idiotic sprout on his head, still shorter than him, Michael recognized that bold, fire gaze hidden beneath the grandeur of his royal manners and dignity. Even though Yoichi couldn't see his eyes among the crowd, and most likely didn't even realize he was there, Michael continued to observe him.

The ball was nearing its end in the late evening. Through the laughter and chatter of the dancing crowd, Michael made his way to the exit.

To the cherry blossom garden.

“Es ist ein schöner Abend, nicht wahr?”

A quiet, calm voice cut through the silence. A mockery hidden beneath impeccable politeness. But all the masks had fallen.

Michael continued in English, slowly approaching the figure standing beneath the pinkish leaves.

“It's been a long time, Yoichi.” Now by name, mockingly, without bothering to conceal his condescension. As if the man before him was not the crown prince and future emperor. There was no need for formalities. In Michael's eyes, Yoichi was forever remembered as a young brat with a crooked sword, a fierce gaze, and messy hair.

“Is something bothering you, young master? You left the ball.” Michael continued slowly, with exaggerated concern, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “You know, I hope your sword skills aren't as terrible as they used to be. Otherwise, it would be a pathetic to ask for a rematch.”

Isagi turned.

Michael stood side by side with him, arms crossed behind his back, his gaze fixed on the falling cherry blossoms in front of them.

Many would be surprised to see this picture.

A German soldier and a Japanese prince, having a conversation in a secluded garden away from the ball, where cherry blossoms are blooming.