Chapter Text
Rudo’s gaze stared straight up at the murky sky above her head. The woman sat on the wooden floor typical of a Japanese house, enjoying the faint breeze drifting through the air above.
“Mother?” called a young girl not far from there. The child physically resembled Rudo, but from head to toe it was clear she followed her father’s genes, Zanka Nijiku, who had now taken the role as head of the family and had guided Rudo for a long time.
“Is something wrong, Zaruna?” Rudo asked gently, her voice hoarse from rarely being used when she was alone.
Zaruna should have still been studying at Hell Guard under Zanka’s strict guidance, yet for some reason she was there to visit her mother. Her movements seemed hesitant to start a conversation, as if something was holding her back.
Rudo noticed it. She noticed it very clearly. From the beginning, the woman had realized that if she married Zanka and had a child with him, then regardless of the child’s gender, that child would be trained harshly by any means necessary until becoming number one from every perspective. The Nijiku family was a strict noble lineage that protected the Ground, and it wasn’t strange to hear that they carried on this obsessive tradition through generations.
Rudo gave a faint smile to Zaruna, her hand patting the wooden floor beside her, inviting her to sit next to her.
Zaruna followed Rudo’s invitation. Obediently, the girl approached her mother and sat beside her in silence, enjoying the comforting atmosphere she always longed for whenever she felt pressure coming from all directions.
“Your father is as annoying as ever, isn’t he, dear?” Rudo began the conversation with a hint of teasing.
“Yes… Father has always been strict, hasn’t he,” Zaruna replied softly, her voice weak from exhaustion.
Rudo let out a gentle sigh, then reached for one of Zaruna’s hands, holding it as a sign of encouragement. Her grip felt very soft and fragile; every time Rudo tried to hold tightly, her hand would tremble as if in pain. It was clear that Rudo was no longer as strong as she once was in her youth. Now she was very weak—even holding a cup of green tea had become difficult. The liquid had to be filled little by little to adjust to the weight she could bear.
“Your father is a great man. He is one of the people who cares about you the most, aside from me, Zaruna.” Rudo’s gaze returned upward, carrying a trace of enthusiasm that had long since faded.
“Your father isn’t someone who can express things through words. But he shows his care through actions. Zanka has always been like that…” At the end of her sentence, Rudo chuckled softly, remembering her youth when she first met him.
“Was Father always that unpleasant toward you?” Zaruna asked curiously, leaning closer to hear every word from Rudo.
“Of course. I hated his attitude the most, but I liked him. Your father was once called ‘the rude master’ by one of the enemies I faced.” The wrinkles beneath Zaruna’s eyes softened slightly as she listened, carried away by the calm atmosphere Rudo created.
“That must have been an insult.” Zaruna laughed along with Rudo as she listened to stories about Zanka’s past—when Rudo first met him, how perfectionist he was, and how strong and caring he could be toward her.
Zaruna listened patiently. The burden on her shoulders began to ease with every word Rudo spoke, as if carried away by the wind.
“He’s an annoying bastard, but also kind at the same time. I don’t know how to describe him.” Rudo gently pressed her temple, feeling a lingering headache from thinking about her husband’s personality.
“But Mother loves him,” Zaruna said softly.
Rudo smiled gently at that. Zaruna wasn’t entirely wrong. She spoke the truth.
“Mother has always loved him,” Rudo clarified.
They both fell into a soothing silence, feeling the comfort in every passing second.
“Mother… if I don’t become the best, that’s okay, right?”
Rudo fell silent in surprise. Her widened eyes softened again.
“Of course, dear. You don’t have to be the best—just be the best version of yourself.”
Zaruna let out a relieved sigh upon hearing that.
“I like it when Mother is here.” Zaruna spoke honestly. For the first time, she softened around someone. Rudo was the exception to her usual serious demeanor.
“Mother is happy that you’ve endured this far,” Rudo replied softly.
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“Where have you been.” Zanka spoke without turning his head from the traditional chess pieces in front of him. His words sounded more like a demand than a question.
“I just… visited Mother, like usual.” Zaruna spoke softly and hesitantly. Upon hearing that, Zanka paused his hand mid-move, slightly turning his head toward Zaruna before refocusing and continuing.
“I see.” After that, there was no more conversation. Only the sound of red and blue chess pieces being moved. The silence felt long for Zaruna, who sat at the edge, fidgeting with the sleeve of her Hell Guard uniform.
“How is your mother?” Zanka spoke again after finishing his game. He turned toward his daughter, who stood with the firm posture he had taught her.
“Mother is fine. But her condition is getting worse.” Zaruna stated her observation. She was very aware that Rudo’s body was weakening over time.
“She has always been like that.” Zanka looked back at the chess pieces he had finished arranging, staring at them as if he might destroy them.
Zaruna remained silent, only speaking when asked. She felt a tension she couldn’t quite describe. The silence returned, but didn’t last long before she asked something she probably shouldn’t have.
“Father loves Mother, doesn’t he? But why does Father never visit her?” Zaruna murmured very softly. Zanka wasn’t surprised at all, as if he had expected the question long ago.
“Great people do not deserve to breathe in the fragrance of flowers.” Zaruna froze upon hearing those words, recognizing their meaning from something she had once learned.
“People like us should not be swayed by comfort—” Zanka paused briefly before continuing,
“Because it will make us greedy.”
Zaruna lowered her head even further, realizing his words were true.
With a smooth, almost imperceptible motion, Zanka stood from his seated position and walked toward the sliding door typical of elite Japanese residences.
Before fully closing it, he spoke:
“Your movements are still hesitant, Zaruna.”
Without waiting for a reply, he shut the door.
Zaruna remained still, staring at where he had stood moments before.
“I understand…” Her gaze turned empty again before shifting to her roughened hands, hardened from effort.
“I will fix it.”