Of all the places in Kumogakure where Shizue might have found herself standing at the turn of a quiet afternoon, the Shinrya Estate remained the one that never quite felt real. Had she ever even been here before?
The grounds unfolded in deliberate harmony, stone paths bordered by carefully tended greenery, water features placed with the kind of patience that suggested generations rather than years. The estate carried weight without menace, refinement without ostentation. It was not merely a residence but a statement of continuity, authority, and intent. Shizue moved through it with practiced familiarity now, her steps unhurried, the hem of her clothing whispering softly against the flagstones as she crossed the inner courtyard.
At her throat, the collar rested warm against her skin.
It was not decorative in the conventional sense, though it was undeniably beautiful. Each scale had been shaped from prismatic material shed from Kitsune’s alternate form, a dragon whose hues shifted with the light. The colors mirrored Shizue’s iridescent eyes so perfectly that most observers assumed it was a deliberate aesthetic choice. Only a rare few, well, two people, knew the truth of it, that the collar was not commissioned or forged but given, an offering that carried intimacy, protection, and trust in equal measure. When Shizue breathed, the colors shimmered faintly, responding as if alive, casting colors in a cascade of scintillating shimmers across the cobbles.
She touched it absently as she walked, thumb brushing the edge in a familiar, grounding gesture which she had picked up in the past couple evenings.
The estate had changed her. Or perhaps it had revealed what had always been there. The girl who once feared fading into obscurity had learned that proximity to power did not erase her, but instead sharpened her sense of self. Here, she was not a footnote or an accessory. She was present, seen, wanted. Loved. She stepped with pride, and for once it wasn't a facade, a fragile thing that might break if you stared too long at it.
Kitsune’s presence was not immediately visible, but it was felt, like one feels a warm breeze before a rain storm. The Shinrya Estate seemed to hum differently when the Raikage was home, the air charged with quiet awareness. Kitsune ruled Kumogakure with a steady hand and an iron will when necessary, but within these walls, she allowed herself moments of softness that few were ever permitted to witness, or that was what she had been told. Whispers of the Raikage were everywhere in the Capitol, after all, and she was as much on everyone's tongues as anything else in the news.
Shizue paused near the veranda, sunlight catching her eyes and her collar; scattering color across the polished floor. She allowed herself a breath, steadying, savoring the calm. There were days when the weight of her own stalled rank and unfulfilled ambitions threatened to surface, but they felt distant here. The estate did not judge her for what she had not yet become. It held space for what she was becoming, for what she was to Kitsune.
Her gaze lifted toward the inner halls, anticipation threading through her chest.
Kitsune was a woman of contrasts, composed and formidable, tender and deliberate. Leader of the village, wielder of immense power, and yet with Shizue, she was attentive in a way that felt profoundly personal. Their bond was not hidden, though it was carefully respected. Within the privacy of the estate, she hoped that glances would linger longer, hands finding one another more easily, and words spoken without the armor of rank or title. She didn't know if Kitsune could ever let her guard down like this, but she hoped.
Shizue smiled to herself, a small, genuine expression she did not bother to suppress, it lifted her mood even further, and drove the butterflies in her stomach to a frenzy.
She straightened, adjusting her posture, fingers briefly brushing the collar once more as if to remind herself that this was real, that she belonged here not by accident but by choice. Whatever doubts still lingered within her were quieted by the simple truth of Kitsune’s presence in her life. The Raikage had seen her at her weakest and her most uncertain, and had not turned away.
As Shizue stepped further inside, the light shifted again, scattering across her eyes and the prismatic collar in perfect unison. Whatever awaited her in the halls beyond, she met it with calm resolve, grounded by love, by purpose, and by the knowledge that she was no longer walking her path alone. She wondered if Kitsune knew what she had planned. She thumbed the wicker of the basket that held their lunch again and bit her lip nervously, trying to picture Kitsune's face when she announced they'd be in search of a secret hot springs that Shizue had overheard one of her father's female clients raving over. 3 hours into the mountains, and a hike besides, but worth it if her ravings were true.
The grounds unfolded in deliberate harmony, stone paths bordered by carefully tended greenery, water features placed with the kind of patience that suggested generations rather than years. The estate carried weight without menace, refinement without ostentation. It was not merely a residence but a statement of continuity, authority, and intent. Shizue moved through it with practiced familiarity now, her steps unhurried, the hem of her clothing whispering softly against the flagstones as she crossed the inner courtyard.
At her throat, the collar rested warm against her skin.
It was not decorative in the conventional sense, though it was undeniably beautiful. Each scale had been shaped from prismatic material shed from Kitsune’s alternate form, a dragon whose hues shifted with the light. The colors mirrored Shizue’s iridescent eyes so perfectly that most observers assumed it was a deliberate aesthetic choice. Only a rare few, well, two people, knew the truth of it, that the collar was not commissioned or forged but given, an offering that carried intimacy, protection, and trust in equal measure. When Shizue breathed, the colors shimmered faintly, responding as if alive, casting colors in a cascade of scintillating shimmers across the cobbles.
She touched it absently as she walked, thumb brushing the edge in a familiar, grounding gesture which she had picked up in the past couple evenings.
The estate had changed her. Or perhaps it had revealed what had always been there. The girl who once feared fading into obscurity had learned that proximity to power did not erase her, but instead sharpened her sense of self. Here, she was not a footnote or an accessory. She was present, seen, wanted. Loved. She stepped with pride, and for once it wasn't a facade, a fragile thing that might break if you stared too long at it.
Kitsune’s presence was not immediately visible, but it was felt, like one feels a warm breeze before a rain storm. The Shinrya Estate seemed to hum differently when the Raikage was home, the air charged with quiet awareness. Kitsune ruled Kumogakure with a steady hand and an iron will when necessary, but within these walls, she allowed herself moments of softness that few were ever permitted to witness, or that was what she had been told. Whispers of the Raikage were everywhere in the Capitol, after all, and she was as much on everyone's tongues as anything else in the news.
Shizue paused near the veranda, sunlight catching her eyes and her collar; scattering color across the polished floor. She allowed herself a breath, steadying, savoring the calm. There were days when the weight of her own stalled rank and unfulfilled ambitions threatened to surface, but they felt distant here. The estate did not judge her for what she had not yet become. It held space for what she was becoming, for what she was to Kitsune.
Her gaze lifted toward the inner halls, anticipation threading through her chest.
Kitsune was a woman of contrasts, composed and formidable, tender and deliberate. Leader of the village, wielder of immense power, and yet with Shizue, she was attentive in a way that felt profoundly personal. Their bond was not hidden, though it was carefully respected. Within the privacy of the estate, she hoped that glances would linger longer, hands finding one another more easily, and words spoken without the armor of rank or title. She didn't know if Kitsune could ever let her guard down like this, but she hoped.
Shizue smiled to herself, a small, genuine expression she did not bother to suppress, it lifted her mood even further, and drove the butterflies in her stomach to a frenzy.
She straightened, adjusting her posture, fingers briefly brushing the collar once more as if to remind herself that this was real, that she belonged here not by accident but by choice. Whatever doubts still lingered within her were quieted by the simple truth of Kitsune’s presence in her life. The Raikage had seen her at her weakest and her most uncertain, and had not turned away.
As Shizue stepped further inside, the light shifted again, scattering across her eyes and the prismatic collar in perfect unison. Whatever awaited her in the halls beyond, she met it with calm resolve, grounded by love, by purpose, and by the knowledge that she was no longer walking her path alone. She wondered if Kitsune knew what she had planned. She thumbed the wicker of the basket that held their lunch again and bit her lip nervously, trying to picture Kitsune's face when she announced they'd be in search of a secret hot springs that Shizue had overheard one of her father's female clients raving over. 3 hours into the mountains, and a hike besides, but worth it if her ravings were true.
