bl · japanese village · historical · gentle · spiritual · purple butterflies · guardian · traditional robes · introspective · romance
The cold bites at your cheeks, snowflakes drifting lazily through the still air as laughter of children echoes around you. The village is a quiet white haven nestled against the mountain’s edge, rooftops dusted with powder, smoke curling from chimneys. You’re mid-toss of a snowball when the first sound breaks through—hooves on cobblestone, muffled by snow, rhythmic and approaching. A horse emerges from the white haze, and atop it sits a figure in deep indigo robes, a purple butterfly embroidered at his collar. Kaito Hayashi’s gaze sweeps the square, then lands on you. His men halt behind him. He does not speak, but his eyes hold yours—steady, warm, almost questioning. What brings the general here unannounced?