— • where, for the first time, she takes a risk for herself, and no one else
|| gn reader || 1.1k words || post story quest ||
; masterlist .,
; a/n - the relationship with the reader is purely up to interpretation, i see her as sort of an older sister but i didn’t really imply it in the writing, so it’s honestly up to you how you see her!! her story quest was beautiful so i had to get this out <3
to say kamisato ayaka was one who disliked risks is blatantly false. you’d assume the eldest daughter of arguably the most renowned clan of inazuma would prefer to play it safe, but that was, in fact, far from the truth.
opposing the vision hunt decree from the moment it was announced was a risk- she easily could’ve had nothing to say about it, and her pristine reputation would have no chance of being tarnished.
meddling in affairs that didn’t concern her was always a risk, for if she got caught it was not her whose name would fall, but her clan’s.
mingling with the populace and aiding them in trivial matters was a risk, there was always the gossip among the other higher clans, about how she would surely be taken advantage of and how the authority of the clan would decline.
kamisato ayaka did not mind risks. a more accurate statement, however, would be that she never took risks for herself.
a life with no regrets was not equal to doing as one pleased. when it came to her people, she would aid them without a doubt, for they were her kin, and their happiness was the source of hers.
everything she did was in accordance to their happy smiles; to see children laugh as they ran across streets while the elderly sat and watched, reminiscing their younger days. the adults would watch as they worked, like a tightly knit sweater, each person a thread in the eloquent fabric that was inazuma.
ayaka would rather they had these moments of freedom than give them feelings of unease by appearing to them herself.
seldom had they seen her, thus she was sure they would worry if she’d leisurely appeared on a stroll someday. and all the trouble she’d cause too! the vendors would insist she take items on the house, the people would make way to let her pass... it disrupted their peace.
just as a heron landed so gracefully in still water, without so much as a ripple, ayaka watched her people from afar, and lived her fantasies through them.
some days, however, her desire to be just ayaka was a little stronger than on others.
it was awfully selfish of her, she thought, but it couldn’t be helped. after that day with the traveller she thought she’d have enough satisfaction to last the rest of her life, but to her dismay it was quite the contrary.
once you gave a heron a morsel it would ever so discreetly demand another, and it so happened that ayaka was given hers.
it was on that whim she found herself being dragged away into the night by you, further and further away from her estate and closer and closer to the city.
she made a weak effort to pull your arm in the opposite direction; it wasn’t too late, she could be home and no one would know the wiser. but your grip was firm and her will was frail, so along the trail you went, hand in hand.
“they’ll know it’s me,” she whispered. “this is a horrible idea, i do not know why i agreed. come, lets go back.”
“ayaka.” you stopped walking and turned around, looking her in the eye. “you are wearing a wig. a black one, at that- it’s the opposite of your original hair. your kimono is one of your mothers, and thus you look several years older than you are. morever it is night, and no one could look at your face properly even if they wanted to! just look to the ground until we get you a mask to cover those eyes of yours, and if anyone recognizes you after that i’ll change my name.”
she couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so she stopped resisting, and soon enough, the two of you were in the city. lanterns draped the walls, filling the streets with dim orange hues.
she knew you were right, that one could only recognize her if they actively tried, yet her heart thumped so, adrenaline coursing through her in a way it never had before.
it felt different from winning a spar from tohma.
it felt different from decieving the kanjou commission.
it felt different from helping someone in need.
she loved all her excitement equally, but this? it was new, and she couldn’t tell if it was right or wrong.
“two masks please!” you called cheerily, and her heart nearly skipped a beat. footsteps were approaching, her game was up, she was going to be caught, what would ayato say? she’d be-
“of course! one for you and the fair lady, right this way! be sure to enjoy the festival, it’ll be a while for the next one, you know!”
ayaka looked up to find you fitting the mask over her face. the vendor was beaming with joy, giving her a slight nod of head as he accepted your payment in full, not insisting on a discount, not calling to the others to inform of her arrival.
not that she was upset when they did that- she was oh so grateful, yet... it drew the line between her and her people farther apart.
just ayaka.
something she’d wanted for so long.
and now, even if for a few moments, it was something she had.
you’d warned her not to speak, in case somehow her voice caused suspicion, but she couldn’t stop herself from laughing, squeezing your hand as she led you to a different street.
“this way!” she whisper-called, and she could feel your grin as you leaped across the avenue, stall to stall. you ate your fills together, and played games until she nearly wanted to pass out
finally, you decided to rest at a crafts stall, set up with little tables, each with families doing their own little pieces of art. parents squabbled with their children as they smeared paint all over their cloths, grandparents tried in vain to teach their grandchildren olden arts.
“what are you making, ayaka?”
your face was resting on her shoulder as she folded a square of paper intricately. you were quite exhausted, but ayaka could tell you were trying to hide it so she wouldn’t insist she take you back.
kamisato ayaka would’ve done just that, but just ayaka decided to trust your judgement, and knew you’d tell her if there really was something wrong.
“patience,” she replied curtly, unfolding the paper.
“it’s a heron!” you remarked.
she nodded. “it is. a blue heron, like my mother.” she took another piece of paper. “and this will be a pink on, like me.”
a heron was filled with poise and grace, its wings tucked away from the light as it saw over its pond in silence, but its true beauty shone when it unfurled said wings for the world to see.
