The cherry blossom trees bloom early this year. In fact, a February blooming is almost unheard of, Oichi is told - although Aurora doesn't have much in the way of seasons to begin with. It's one of the biggest changes from Dragnor.
They share hanami dango beneath one of the largest trees, the pale pink petals swirling around them in the breeze that toys with Rei's long hair. She wears it loose today, the only indication of her warlord rank her gold hairpin fashioned in the image of the flowers that they're celebrating.
Later tonight, she'll give Oichi a matching one. A mark of the kingdom that Oichi now calls her home, and all that she's found there.
Ina knows which flowers her father likes to bring. She helps him rest the small bouquet of white jasmine at the seat of the stone obelisk, their scent still as sweet as though they have only just been plucked from some garden in Greenleaf. She doesn't know why it was her mother's favorite flower. She wonders if Tadakatsu does.
They stand there in silence, both husband and daughter paying their own respects. Ina's eyes fix on Asahi's name, each of its characters carved in black.
She smells rain on the air, but the storm never comes.
Nene doesn't lie when she's asked - maintaining a relationship when your partner is nearly an entire continent away is no small task. She had hoped that circumstances would fall together this year, that perhaps an excuse would arise justifying an unplanned excursion to Ignis. Her own kingdom needs her more right now though, still barely in the beginning of recovery after decades of warfare.
She settles for the letter silently delivered by Hanzo, and a soft smile crosses her face as she reads its contents. Hideyoshi isn't a poet; if Nene suspects correctly, this final product likely underwent several edits by Hanbei. But if she enjoyed flashiness, she wouldn't be a ninja.
The letter takes its place alongside its brothers, tucked carefully into the drawer that stands by Nene's bed. Creases have cut into the lettering of the older ones from all the times that she's re-read them after a long day.
War is no blessing, Nene is well aware, but she's found that the people one meets from it are bound to alter your life forever.
The blizzard blows in almost immediately after Motochika arrives. If he hadn't been terrified before about leaving Fontaine in Koshosho's hands for one day, the idea that he might be gone for longer than planned fills his mind with a thousand unwelcome scenes that he might return to. Luckily, once Gracia learns that her "uncle" is paying a visit, he has little time to focus on anything but the whirlwind of energy that is Mitsuhide's young daughter.
Gracia's mother is a topic that Mitsuhide keeps closely guarded, and Motochika isn't the prying sort. Ghosts stay with each person in different ways, after all. But he knows that beyond Mitsuhide's doting on Gracia, the Ice warlord would upend the world to protect his daughter. He knows from the demons he sees behind Mitsuhide's northern-sea eyes that Mitsuhide blames himself for her mother's death.
They make a strange family, the three of them (it will be several more years before Mitsuhide allows Koshosho anywhere near Gracia). Motochika isn't sure of exactly how much he's looking for in Mitsuhide - the ideals that first brought the two warlords together have been fulfilled, and they remain connected now by whatever strange bond has been forged in their wake.
It's not quite the world they were willing to sacrifice everything for, but it's on its way. That's what matters most.
Ginchiyo has scoffed at the idea of this holiday for as long as Muneshige has known her, and that might as well be their entire lives. As it dawns this year, he can already hear her voice in his mind, the way she'll scoff at its concept and list all the ways it's sheer absurdity. In fact, there's no quicker way to turn her back into the ill-tempered teenager that preceded the warlord of Violight.
In their twenty-seven years of life, Muneshige has attempted a gesture towards her in the spirit of the holiday exactly once, one which was hurriedly laughed off as a joke when Ginchiyo's response was a glare that could have evaporated the ocean. It has been a decade since then.
If warlord and second-in-command is all they're ever meant to be, Muneshige is fine with that. It's not like he doesn't seem to hold the unofficial title of Ransei's most eligible bachelor, a fact that he knows leaves Magoichi seething.
He'll hold out for one more year, though. And maybe another after that.
Aya and Kenshin take their tea like they would any other afternoon. This day doesn't mean much to them. Love is always celebrated in Illusio, and Aya doesn't understand why some people would only do so once a year like it's some sort of chore.
Elsewhere in the castle, Kanetsugu continues to run through the combat drills he's been practicing since morning. The phantom sensation of Aya's hand still lingers on the back of his own from where they briefly touched. She was merely showing him how to direct his energy down his link with Kadabra, he reminds himself. Nothing more.
He wants it so desperately to mean more.
Kai abandons all pretense of dignity as the palanquin stops in front of the castle, the curtains parting to reveal its passenger. Hayakawa's hug nearly bowls her over as both girls squeal with excitement, despite Kai now having several inches on her. She feels a similar emotion down her link with Darmanitan as it greets Larvitar.
It hasn't completely sunk in for Kai that life can truly go back to normal for them now that the war is over. She had begged Lord Ujiyasu to let her go with Hayakawa to the secret Hojo refuge that for the past two years had hidden her from Nobunaga after his conquest of Cragspur. She still remembers what he had told her in response.
They might as well be sisters, and Kai doesn't care that they're strangers by bloodline. Because even when Lord Ujiyasu snaps at her and demands more from every training session, she knows it's because he's entrusted her with the most important thing in Ransei. And so long as Kai breathes air, nothing will harm Hayakawa.
There's no view Kunoichi loves more than that from the top of Terrera's towers under a night sky. At least, she thinks so, until she's suddenly sharing it with Yukimura.
She was hired by the Sanada family to be his shadow, how is it she's never known that he comes up here too? She turns to Sneasel to ask if her partner is aware of this, only to find that the Dark-type Pokemon has suddenly made itself scarce. Subtle.
Yukimura's shadow she has been for so long though, that they don't even need to exchange words as she stands beside him. These viewing towers really aren't meant to be manned by more than one person, and their bodies have only been pressed this closely together until now in Kunoichi's daydreams. She stiffens as Yukimura's arm brushes her own, but he doesn't make an effort to pull away.
Several minutes pass as they stare out at the desert, a jewelry box of constellations scattered through the night sky above them. Allowing the instinct to seize her before she can think twice, Kunoichi leans against Yukimura, resting her head on his shoulder.
People who think that no beauty can be found in Terrera haven't the slightest idea what they're talking about.
No relishes the sensation of Nobunaga's chest rising and falling beneath her hand as they catch their breath in the aftermath of their brief spar. "It would seem your life still belongs to me," she softly croons into his ear.
Nobunaga chuckles, tilting his head to meet her eyes as much as the dagger she holds at his throat will let him. "And I would not have it any other way."
Someday, she may still do it, she thinks. Drag the blade across his chest to carve out his heart, allow her hands to be stained by his blood to finally match her soul as it has always been. Not tonight, though.
She lowers the dagger slowly, always enjoying the test of how much control Nobunaga will allow her to hold over him. Circling back around him, No faces him so closely that all she can see is her own reflection burning in his deep black eyes. Without warning, his hand tangles in her hair, and the meeting of their lips is slow, passionate, intimate.
No drapes her arms around his neck, closing what little gap remains between their bodies. After several seconds, she breaks the kiss long enough to remark, "There is a bed right there, you know. It would be a shame not to use it."
Her dragon laughs, slowly running his hand down the flowers inked into her back. "All in due time, dear."
On a secluded, unremarkable beach that happens to fall along the border between two certain kingdoms, a small fire has been lit. Despite the chill of the northern winds that roll off the ocean, the fire burns brightly, spitting orange sparks that illuminate the otherwise black night. Around the flames, a shrine maiden dances.
The steps are simple, the audience none but her two partner Pokemon. Okuni is a true performer though, and even this is more than enough for her to create something magical. The light from the fire turns her shrine maiden garments into scarlet silks, and the roar of the waves is her applause.
She dances precisely because she can.