3.0 — The Day Yuzuki Was Born
Miyuki Shirakawa was barely two years old when the morning bells rang across the Shirakawa estate, shaking the shoji doors with a crisp hum that cut through the dawn. The adults whispered, hurried, and moved as if caught in a storm. Even at her young age, Miyuki sensed something monumental was happening—something that pulled every servant and every family member into a taut, breathless line.
Her mother was in labor.
Miyuki didn't know the word for it yet, but she knew the meaning behind the tension. Her father, Daichi Shirakawa, usually stern and immovable as a stone statue, was pacing. Pacing. She had never seen that before. His steps were sharp, restless, filling the hallway with unspoken fear and hope.
Miyuki clutched the hem of a servant's sleeve as they ushered her away from the sliding doors of the birthing room.
"No, young lady—this is not a place for children."
She didn't like being moved. She didn't like not knowing. In her previous life, the moments of panic in hospitals were etched deep into her mind. There had been nurses rushing, lights flashing, doctors pushing her parents aside with polite firmness.
Here, the panic looked different, smelled different. Tatami instead of sterile floors. Warm oil lamps instead of fluorescent lights. The concerned murmurs of midwives instead of clipped medical commands.
But the core feeling was the same.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
The trembling sense of something important is happening.
Miyuki curled up in a hallway corner and watched shadows dance under the door. She hugged her knees and whispered to herself—a small habit from her previous life.
Please… let everything be okay.
It was the first prayer she made in this world.
Hours later—when the sun was high enough to burn through the rice paper windows—she heard it.
A small, wailing cry.
A baby's cry.
Her father stopped pacing. His shoulders dropped. His hands shook—not with fear this time, but relief.
There was no ceremonial announcement, no loud celebration. Just soft murmurs, tired smiles, and the midwives bowing in quiet satisfaction.
A servant knelt beside Miyuki.
"Lady Miyuki… would you like to meet your baby sister?"
Sister.
A word that rung oddly in her heart.
In her old life, she had died alone. No siblings. No cousins close in age. Isolation had been the silent companion to her sickness.
Now she had a sister.
When they let her inside the room, Miyuki approached on small, careful steps. Her mother lay exhausted but radiant, sweat-damp hair framing her gentle smile.
"Miyuki…" she whispered, voice hoarse. "This is Yuzuki."
The baby's skin was pink, soft, impossibly tiny. Fuzzy silver hair—paler than even Miyuki's—sat atop her head. Her eyes were closed tight, yet somehow Miyuki felt that, when they opened, they would be the same piercing blue as hers.
Yuzuki's fragile cry softened as she was held closer to Miyuki's side.
Miyuki reached out one trembling finger.
Yuzuki's hand latched onto it.
Warm.
Small.
Alive.
A strange sensation spread through Miyuki's chest. Not jealousy, not confusion… something heavier.
Responsibility.
Even at two years old. Even with a fragmented mind between two lives. The feeling was unmistakable.
I'll protect her, Miyuki thought.
No matter what.
A promise formed before she understood the weight of promises in this world.
And it would shape her entire life.
3.1 — Learning Sisterhood
Yuzuki grew fast—faster than Miyuki expected. Although only two years younger, she quickly became a bundle of energy wrapped in soft giggles and clumsy steps.
Miyuki, on the other hand, matured mentally far faster than she should have. Reincarnation gave her a higher awareness, but her small body was slow to obey.
At three years old, she tried to carry Yuzuki (who was one), but her little arms quivered with the effort.
"Mi–yu–ki! Up!" Yuzuki demanded, pointing at her with pudgy fingers.
"I'm trying," Miyuki wheezed.
Both collapsed onto the tatami, giggling uncontrollably.
Their mother walked in, found them tangled together, and laughed.
"My blossoms… you two never fail to melt my heart."
But Miyuki found that sisterhood wasn't only laughter.
There were nights Yuzuki cried endlessly. Nights Miyuki walked circles around the room, gently patting her back. Nights when their father returned late from clan meetings, exhausted from navigating the political tensions creeping across the land.
Some days, Miyuki absorbed the tension like a sponge. She was still a child, but the reincarnated part of her understood too well what fear looked like on a parent's face.
One evening, after her father raised his voice at a servant, Yuzuki clung to Miyuki's side, trembling.
Miyuki hugged her tightly.
"Don't worry. Father's not mad at you."
"Mad at world?" Yuzuki asked in a broken toddler speech.
"...Yes," Miyuki whispered. "Mad at the world."
The Shirakawa clan's lands were peaceful, but Miyuki sensed something was slowly shifting in the air around them. Rumors. Whispers. Political tension. A growing divide between noble houses.
She carried that weight silently.
Even as a child.
Even when she didn't fully understand it.
Because Yuzuki needed someone calm. Someone reliable.
And Miyuki would be that person—even if she had to grow into it.
3.2 — Three Friends, Three Worlds
At four years old, Miyuki was finally allowed to leave the estate under supervision for short periods—an exciting prospect for her and Yuzuki.
But her father had strict conditions:
"No boys," Father said firmly.
"No wandering alone."
"No climbing trees, running into the woods, or engaging in dangerous behavior."
The list went on for several minutes.
Miyuki nodded while Yuzuki stared blankly, clearly not understanding a single rule.
Despite the restrictions, Miyuki soon met three girls who would shape her childhood:
1. Hana — The Sickly Flower
Hana was a frail girl from a pottery family near the village river. She coughed often and spoke softly, her pale cheeks flushed far too easily.
But she smiled with her eyes.
Miyuki met her while watching her struggle to carry a small clay pot. Yuzuki grabbed the pot and nearly dropped it, but Hana only laughed gently.
"It's okay. I break them all the time," Hana said.
It was the first time Miyuki felt instantly protective of someone outside her family.
2. Ayame — The Wild Child
Ayame was the complete opposite—fiery, bold, with messy hair tied in a ribbon that never sat straight. She was the daughter of the local blacksmith and feared nothing.
She introduced herself by jumping out of a tree and yelling,
"HEY! Do you wanna see something cool?"
Yuzuki clapped.
Miyuki panicked.
Ayame grinned.
Ayame became the source of most "adventures," though Miyuki privately labeled them "near-disasters."
3. Kasumi — The Noble Girl
Kasumi belonged to a minor noble house affiliated with the Shirakawa clan. She had impeccable posture, spoke politely, and looked at Miyuki like she was someone important—even though Miyuki was still a child.
"You are Lady Miyuki," she said with a bow.
"It is an honor to be your friend."
Miyuki had no idea how to respond, so she just mimicked the bow.
Kasumi blushed.
Three friends, three temperaments.
And somehow, Miyuki fit between them all.
Even Yuzuki, barely walking properly, waddled after them eagerly.
3.3 — Adventures of Small Feet
Their "adventures" began innocently enough.
A walk to the village river.
A chase through the plum orchard.
A visit to the shrine steps where Ayame tried (and failed) to outrun the head priest's pet dog.
But children grow bold quickly.
The Plum Orchard Incident
Ayame declared one day, "Let's find the secret orchard!"
Miyuki blinked.
"What secret orchard?"
"The one that's soooo big only brave girls can get through!"
Kasumi sighed. "Ayame, you are not referring to the orchard behind the guardhouse again?"
Ayame froze.
"...No."
She was absolutely referring to the orchard behind the guardhouse.
Yuzuki tugged Miyuki's sleeve. "I wanna go!"
Hana coughed but nodded enthusiastically.
Miyuki hesitated—but the desire to not disappoint her friends pushed her forward.
The orchard was beautiful. Rows of plum trees stretched endlessly, sunlight catching the ripening fruit like scattered gems. The girls ran laughing beneath the branches.
Until someone called out:
"YOU THERE! THAT AREA IS RESTRICTED!"
Miyuki's heart dropped.
Kasumi shrieked.
Hana tripped.
Ayame yelled, "RUN!"
Miyuki grabbed Yuzuki and sprinted—legs short, breath uneven—dodging between trees as guards chased them.
They escaped, breathless and terrified, collapsing near the village well.
Ayame rolled onto her back and laughed,
"That… was… AWESOME!"
Hana wheezed.
Kasumi glared.
Yuzuki clapped.
Miyuki considered crying.
But something inside her warmed.
Despite her fear… she felt alive.
For the first time since reincarnating, she wasn't simply surviving.
She was living.
3.4 — The Shape of Strength
By the time Miyuki reached five, her coordination improved dramatically. Her father, noticing her determination, began allowing very light martial exercises.
Breathing drills.
Stances.
Posture training.
Nothing involving weapons yet.
But Miyuki took it seriously—more seriously than expected of a five-year-old.
One morning, her father watched her practice a basic stance under the cherry tree.
"You're too tense," he said.
"Strength begins with calm."
Miyuki exhaled and tried again.
Yuzuki watched from the veranda, clapping each time Miyuki held the stance longer than ten seconds.
Her father nodded thoughtfully.
"You have a good sense of balance for your age."
Miyuki glowed inside.
But later that night, while looking at her small hands, she whispered:
"I'm not strong yet."
Not strong enough to protect Yuzuki.
Not strong enough to face the world she sensed was slowly becoming dangerous.
Not strong enough to control her fate.
Not yet.
But someday.
Someday she would be.
3.5 — A Promise in the Night
One evening in late autumn, a storm rolled across the Shirakawa lands. Wind rattled the windows, lightning carved jagged white streaks across the clouds, and thunder shook the tatami mats.
Yuzuki crawled into Miyuki's futon, trembling.
"Scary…"
Miyuki wrapped her arms around her.
"It's okay. I'm here."
"Why thunder angry?"
"It's not angry. It's just loud."
Yuzuki curled tighter.
"You protect me?"
The question felt heavier than it should have.
Miyuki stared at the storm outside. A memory flickered—her old hospital bed, the stormy night she asked her mother the same question. Will you protect me?
Her mother had cried.
Miyuki tightened her hold around Yuzuki.
"Yes," she whispered.
"I'll protect you forever."
Yuzuki fell asleep with a soft sigh.
Miyuki stayed awake.
Listening.
Thinking.
Feeling the weight of her promise settle deep into her bones.
Outside, the storm raged like a restless spirit.
Inside, Miyuki felt something awaken—quiet, determined, unshakable.
A seed of resolve.
A spark that would one day become a flame.
Her journey toward becoming a samurai…
toward becoming someone capable of protecting those she loved…
truly began that night.