Absent-minded

Chapter 1: A Nation Silenced

Front Cover provided by AWDEKO (Twitter), awdeko (Instagram), awdeko (Tumblr)

A/N: I have way too much free time and I like Fire Emblem (and also Setsuna), so this came about.

In all seriousness, this is my first story on here, so any criticism is greatly appreciated, however nervous I am for first thoughts about my writing. That being said, as of the time of this being published, I have written a few chapters, so feedback and improvements will be applied a few chapters after when the feedback is sent.

My goal for this project is for me to put my time towards a more practical skill rather than just playing video games all day, and I also hope that people enjoy reading it, and want to continue following this story.

Rated T for a few romantic undertones within the story, and a little language.

This story only loosely follows the plot of Birthright, so inclusion of some characters like Zola will be removed.

Pairings: Corrin (Male)/ Setsuna, Mystery / Oboro, Hinata / Mystery, Ryoma / Mystery, Mystery / Hinoka - these will come inside the story.

Kaze / Hana, Saizo / Orochi, Jakob / Felicia - married before the start of this story, however these pairs won't have as a great a story implementation in terms of children.

The Corrin in this story has dark blue hair (don't even ask how), a little lighter than Oboro's (if you want complete specifics, Corrin's '#27' hair colour) , but otherwise the standard male Avatar in terms of build.

The story may include a bit of in-game dialogue, but only for implementation of supports.

I might as well also say that the camp is only based on the Astral Plane, and isn't the Astral Plane itself. The upbringing of children is somewhat important to the plot, so no Deeprealms either, no matter how dangerous it is for infants to travel to and in Nohr.

Most of the characters and locations I use belong to Intelligent Systems. Some are my own made for the purposes of fleshing out the story and making it only slightly follow the plot of Birthright.

Corrin focused, aligning his blade with the slender form of the ninja that stood before him. The Mokushujin was unintimidated by the prince, gripping his jet black shuriken in his left hand, which was gloved in a body of leather. The thin leather glove defined his metacarpals, as he slightly bent his fingers, two of them assigned to the forward facing points of the throwing star. Undeterred by this somewhat menacing look, Corrin allowed the world around him to slow. He looked at the ancient inscriptions carved into the sacred blade Yato as he sharpened his senses. Smelling the familiar scent of metal emanating from the shuriken the ninja grasped, he drifted his thoughts to the day when the blade, by some otherworldly magnetic attraction, was bestowed upon to him, rising from the deceased form of the Dawn Dragon sculpture, straight into his hand. Corrin had never given the inscriptions much thought, but looking at them now he recognised them as characters from an ancient language belonging the First Dragons, who founded Hoshido and Nohr, two conflicting nations. Somehow, this deeply saddened him, vividly reminding him of the strong bonds he had had to abandon with his choice to side with his family by birth.

Corrin focused back to the battle on hand. For him, time had slowed down almost to the point where it reached a stop, preventing any further progress in his quest for peace. The ninja seemed to be almost waiting for him to come out of his trance to challenge him, as if a fair fight was all that mattered. His senses peaked; he lunged forward at the Mokushujin, evoking a yell of surprise from the ninja. Pressing his advantage, he swerved to the right of the man's desperate shuriken throw and, getting used to his emotional boundaries, ran his blade parallel to his arm, cutting through the ninja's bark brown tunic. The Mokushujin cried out again, this time in defeat. Crimson began to stain his tunic, and it leaked through to the foliage, like an elaborate painting. Looking away, Corrin forced himself not to dwell on the situation. He would normally leave his enemies alive, but he could not take any risks with the ninjas, as they seemed to be always handling a shuriken even in death. Although a pacifist, Corrin was getting used to the consequences that would conspire to make his ideal world, and accepted that "there never could be peace without blood, sweat and tears" which was what Ryoma told him when Corrin was overburdened at his protection of Sakura in the temple of Fort Jinya a few months ago.

"Lord Corrin!"

Oboro rushed up on Corrin's left hand side. Her sapphire blue and baby orange uniform was dirty, muddied by the heat of the battle that was ensuing before them. Corrin smiled. Although Oboro's uniform, as well as the patterned wooden breastplate offered no sort of camouflage, he knew that someone of her capabilities did not need it. She was extremely seasoned in the art of naginatajutsu; on the battlefield, her usage of the lance (Corrin practiced with the Nohrian craft for the weapon in his childhood and early adulthood) was both strategic and skilful, allowing her to quickly dispatch the many enemies they had encountered during their journey. He was happy that she had rightfully earned Takumi's attention after being promoted to a retainer, especially given how her life had turned when her parents were murdered by Nohrian bandits.

"Hello Oboro," Corrin replied, with a nod of recognition aimed to where Oboro was standing, "we don't have much time to chat idly, do you bring me news?"

"The Mokushujin have shown signs of withdrawal, however, Daimyo Kotaro has not had any intention of leaving himself as of yet. I expect that Lord Ryoma will want us to regroup, so I might as well as do his job for him." Oboro swished her cobalt blue ponytail behind her shoulders, before running off, naginata closely behind. "See you when we regroup!" she said, with a wink at Corrin, before she disappeared amongst the composition of native Mokushu trees.

As he took off in a different direction to Oboro, feelings of hatred for the Mokushujin noble laced through every corner of his mind. He could not find it, even in his generally forgiving and self-critical mind, to ignore the fact that Kotaro had agreed to support Nohr (as a Hoshidan region no less) in return for land from the sub-Hoshidan regions which King Garon obviously would try to invade as the war continued.

Corrin allowed thoughts to run wild as he searched for a sign of any ninjas. Oboro's message was proving to be ringing true, as he was met with nothing but ninjas of eternal sleep, already half concealed by the ever falling cinnamon leaves, a natural grave. "Some offense," he muttered, catching a rather amusing sight of a few ninjas, retreating in a defeated fashion. However, although most of the Mokushu forces had been dispatched with relative ease, there still remained the question of what to do with Kotaro. Although Corrin's hatred of the man had grown substantially in a very short period, he was still willing to take measures if Kotaro agreed to cancel his alliance with the western nation. The prince continued to jog through the forest, looking for signs of his allies.

Kotaro was seething with frustration. As the Hoshidan forces had the courage to enter his land on their way to Nohr, he had gathered up an army of men, most ninjas - shurikens were seen as the weapon of Mokushu – and prepared for an ambush. Needless to say, his plan had exploded in his face. While Corrin's fellowship was not expecting to battle in -as far as they knew- a peaceful Hoshidan region (he had committed Corrin's name to memory when news broke that he had decided to betray his Nohrian family, lest he had the chance to assassinate him), they still were all wielding their specialist weapons – from katanas, to naginatas, and even a few shuriken wielders potent in the teachings of ninjutsu. When he approached the group, he never planned to actually initiate the battle with the Hoshidan ready. Part of this first mistake was due to the incompetence of his own ninjas, missing a shuriken which was planned to strike Corrin where it hurt most, which meant that the few spear fighters he had managed to gather would rush in and finish him off. Though hardly a tactician, Kotaro admired his intelligence with this seemingly ingenious plan. However, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. The other part of this first mistake was the fact that the company of Hoshidans were already alert, almost as even they knew of Mokushu's newfound allegiance to Nohr.

Kotaro swore in the bitter Mokushujin tongue that he dismissed and dismissed as the common Hoshidan – and Nohrian – language spread far and wide over almost all provinces of both kingdoms. Having decided to opt out of battling himself and letting his army do the work for him, he had placed a lot of weight on his troops who were less well-practiced in the first place, and even though the Hoshidans had far less in terms of number, reports were that none of them had fallen in this spur. He clenched his heptapoint shuriken tightly, its sleek red Mokushujin patterns showing that this was his, and only his. Crouching in a small clearing, Kotaro spotted an archer, accompanied by what looked to be a samurai and ninja. He gritted his teeth. He had almost accepted his fate. Regrets flowed at regular intervals throughout his conscience, regretting the choice to back up Nohr in Hoshido, the choice to engage the enemy in this very forest, the choice to infiltrate Hoshido for big land and financial rewards. He prepared for his demise, deciding a vow towards Hoshido, the land he had stayed true to for so long was appropriate. He slashed off his ponytail with his star, and spread the hairs among the ground. This was his interpretation of how to make an offering to the Dawn Dragon who supposedly watched over Hoshido. Taking off his leather shuriken satchel and laying it on the floor amongst the hair, he closed his eyes.

He had one shuriken. And one goal. He had to make it count.

"Milord, I have your spare quiver on hand."

Takumi frowned with an unenthusiastic "Oh." Despite the droll tone of this comment, it felt livelier than the forest which had announced a new deathly presence a while ago.

"Oboro, I really do appreciate your concern, but if you take the moment to inspect my quiver on my waistguard, I do believe that you will notice I have an abundance of arrows, so I won't be needing more. "

Oboro flinched. "I'm sorry milord; I know I should have checked on your quiver before asking. I promise that it will not happen again, I was just worried about whether you were running out of ammo for the sacred yumi you possess."

Takumi suppressed a laugh. For a long time it had been clear that the girl was infatuated to him, from her overly protective, motherly nature, to her explanations when he criticized her. He often found it quite comical, however as of late he found himself willingly spending more time with her, which made him begin to question his own feelings. Takumi almost thought that taking the issue to his other retainer, Hinata would be a good idea. This proved to be a bad idea, since Hinata had spread a 'rumour' about him to Oboro. Seeing the seamstress had heard this and injected it into her brain – and had been acting slightly more motherly to him since – he wondered whether he should stop asking himself questions and just follow what he thought was right. The childish infatuation Oboro had was, willingly or not, developing within him too. However these were thoughts to ponder over in his spare time.

"It's fine, Oboro, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself; everyone makes mistakes from time to time. You are a great fighter and great at looking after my needs too – you are everything a liege like me would want."

Flattered by these kind words, Oboro blushed, a stark contrast to her long blue hair. She looked away.

"Lord Takumi, I must be going. I will see you after the battle, if all goes to plan. But I will always be near you, so if you are ever in danger, do not be afraid to call for my help. I would rather die than see you get killed."

And off she went, readjusting her ponytail, her hair almost going down to her battle stained, orange kimono skirt. Takumi decided to follow suit, fiddling with his hair tie just like Oboro was. He ran, wielding his divine weapon, the Fujin Yumi. The yumi was unnaturally tall – one hundred and ninety centimetres, especially big for a man of his height. Despite its length, Takumi had gotten used to it. His arching talent was exceptional, rivalled only by one of Lady Hinoka's retainers. However, since Lady Hinoka was visiting Notre Sagesse on orders from Yukimura, Hoshido's head tactician and servant to the late Lady Mikoto, neither she nor her retainers were present. However, they were expected to join the group once they arrived in Nohr, so Takumi would have another archer to help with the native Nohrian wyverns that they would no doubt encounter.

Since the group had left the Hoshidan capital a few months ago, they had followed the eastern coast, and were now beginning to get to the south western tip of Hoshido. Their routes had taken them through to the Great Wall of Suzanoh, the world-famous capital border, to Fort Jinya, which served as a hospital on the outskirts of the capital, to the windy desert of the Wind Tribe where they recruited Hayato, a man who looked very young, but was potent in magic and using scrolls. Further along their journey, they had passed through Izumo, where they were deceived by a Nohrian mage, and to Mokushu, where they now were. From Mokushu, it was a matter of heading a short way west, through the smaller Hoshidan provinces which were situated in plains and forests. The group would then take a boat over to Nohr, arriving close to Cyrkensia, where it was planned that Hinoka would meet up with them. From that point on, the smooth sailing would stop: word of the group would spread quickly, so Nohrian would be on full alert for intruders from the east kingdom.

As he was planning the route out in his head, he noticed that Saizo and Ryoma were approaching him, stern faces pasted onto their heads. Ryoma walked slowly over to Takumi, with rhythmic footsteps in an even manner, engulfing the leaves and vegetation.

"We have located their leader," Ryoma said, his facial expressions still temporarily molded into his head, "we need to be cautious though; he is wielding a shuriken, and looks ready to fight, given the chance."

"Hm. I'll rally the others, from my knowledge this forest isn't the biggest in the world, plus you can trace footsteps" – he picked up a crimson leaf – "with these handy devices here. Thanks for the message brother, you wait here."

The forests of Mokushu were actually surprisingly small; maybe only ten acres. As such, it did not take long for the archer to rally everyone, especially since the group were not especially fond on camouflage gear. Once he had grouped everyone together, he reported back to Ryoma.

Ryoma looked questioningly over his shoulder past his mane of spiky brown hair. "The man has not moved a muscle in all this time, he is surprisingly calm. We might need to scout for enemy reinforcements before we approach into his line of sight."

He thought for a moment. "Saizo, Rinkah, go scout out around the perimeter of the man. We will wait for your signal before approaching. Kaze, Takumi and Hinata, you should venture into Kotaro's sight. The others will assume a flanking role. We need to get as much info as we can out of this man, so you three, do not attack him."

Saizo and Rinkah nodded, and both went in separate directions. Presently they returned, surprisingly with an all clear signal. A group took a left route whilst another took a right, whilst the chosen three walked slowly into Kotaro's view.

Kotaro wielded his shuriken, preparing for an attack. However problems arose, as to his dismay, the three that stood a few hundred metres away from him did not have any resemblance to that of his real target. However, he could foresee another group coming in for a flank. The man's hearing was exceptional, which was very useful from a tactical perspective. Even though he was sure to die fighting here, he hoped that he could achieve the goal he had in mind from the very start.

Takumi walked closer, glancing at the groups both sides of him. He tried to make this action inconspicuous, seeing that Kaze had informed him that ninjas were the 'masters of sixth sense', and that any action he made could be interpreted by Kotaro, with potentially catastrophic consequences. The group to the right, led by Corrin and Oboro, had agreed to flank last, so Ryoma's group on the left could work to weaken the man. From what he could predict, Ryoma would use the electrical magic concealed in Raijinto to stun the man, leaving Corrin's group time to rush in.

Ryoma breathed heavily. His Raijinto ran parallel to his leg as he walked along, making slight crackling sounds from the lightning imbued in his sacred katana. He fully well knew that Kotaro would be able to predict a flank; it was just a matter of besting him at his own game. Raijinto's long range magic would hopefully be able to catch the Mokushujin off guard. He had to hope.

Corrin forced himself to remain calm. If Ryoma's plan worked, he would just have to rush in, Yato in hand, to get answers. Regardless, he remained nervous, pessimistic at the chances of the plan failing. Seeing Kotaro clutching his heptapoint shuriken calmly shook him to the core. Corrin could work out for himself that the shuriken was probably meant for him, so that was the reason behind his group being the follow up to the attack. Either way, he did not know how he could bait the menacing heptapoint shuriken if Ryoma's plan failed. He could just run in and hope for the best, like he had been doing for most of the battles up until now, but he corrected himself; surely Kotaro would be smarter than the other goons he had been normally facing?

Drawing level with Kotaro, and staying the same distance away from Ryoma, Corrin mouthed the signal to Ryoma. He gravely nodded back, and began to charge up the katana-tome. Streaks of lightning began to fill the weapon, creating more and more crackling sounds. The lightning, possessing the sword with grace, stopped charging. Its sparks began to lay dormant, as they became one with the katana. Soon Raijinto was dyed a mischievous yellow colour, surrounded by a visible aura of lethal magic. Ryoma took a deep breath, closed one eye, aimed at the ninja about twenty feet away from him, and fired.

Kotaro had heard the katana charging to his left from the very moment it had started. Needless to say, the sheer speed at which the long sword-like shape of translucent yellow horror was going surprised him. He started to dart away from the incoming projectile, which bared translucent yellow teeth, opened translucent yellow eyes, and flared translucent yellow nostrils. It was a perfect recreation of, to his horror, his very own face, and it approached him faster that what was imaginable. The projectile hit him in the leg, rendering it completely useless, and sending him rag dolling into the air. As he hit the floor, he instinctively put his hands behind him to take the brunt of blow.

That was his biggest mistake.

His body crushed down onto his heptapoint shuriken, which his hand was still clutching. Yelling out in pain, he cursed. What a stupid way to die. Not even to the enemy, but his own weapon? What kind of amateur would he be mistaken for by this group? He looked to the ground, promptly looking back at the sight of a liquid red dripping onto the ground. Despite this embarrassment, he was knowledgeable enough to understand that taking out the shuriken would only attract more blood. Reluctantly, he left it, and waited for death to take him. He had no intention of speaking to Corrin, or anyone else. He knew their plan, yet he failed to counter it. In many ways he deserved to die.

Oboro was the first to rush over, motherly instincts kicking in, even for the enemy. She winced at the pool of crimson, and, pulling out bandages, came over to tend to the lethal wound Kotaro had inflicted upon himself. However, she was denied by the Mokushujin.

"Why? Wouldn't you prefer to live? If you amend your ways and come back to Hoshido, we have plenty of room to forgive you," she responded to Kotaro's denial.

"I don't deserve it." Kotaro stumbled out the words through his teeth. "I'd rather die than come back to Hoshido. May King Garon triumph in this war. The Nohrians will come through! "

Oboro looked with eyes full of fury. Thoughts of sorrow and ire overflowed in her mind. She remembered the day, the day of her parents' demise, as vividly as if she were reliving it. Her parents were tailors, and she loved them; her mother would make all sorts of clothes, including Oboro's favourite to craft, kimonos. Happy memories crafted themselves into her pure Nohrian hatred. Struggling to resist the urge to stab the man before her in the heart, she just walked away, leaving him to die. Corrin, taken aback by Oboro's animosity, stared at her, imagined how she must have felt. He had been told her story on their travels: he always felt sympathy for her, and he was filled with sorrow every time she mentioned it. Because of this, he completely ignored the man lying sprawling on the floor, and instead focused on comforting Oboro.

Sakura crept up to Kotaro, nervosity filling up all of her body, and extending to her festal, which was sweaty in her grip. To her horror, the man who impaled himself was now dead, with a pool of blood muddied by the dirt of the forest floor. She developed extreme goosebumps, despite the relatively warm overall Hoshidan climate. Although a shy girl, she suddenly felt the urge to yell out to everyone to run. She backed down from this opportunity, blushing even at the thought of it. Instead she approached her brother, Takumi. Her siblings and retainers were the people she found it easiest to have a conversation with; Corrin had tried to improve her confidence over the months, with decent results.

"Takumi?" she whispered. "I think the man is d-dea-d." She felt a cold sweat running down her forehead and realised she was shaking as if it was freezing.

"Sakura. You can hold on to my arm for now. We just have to move on. I will tell Ryoma to move on as soon as we can to make camp. It will be fine when you're with us."

Takumi smiled. Although younger than Hinoka, Corrin and Ryoma, he was still older than Sakura, so he could still see himself as somewhat mature when compared with his siblings. He passed on the message to Ryoma, who led the group west, further approaching the west coast, and leaving a defeated Mokushu behind.

Corrin yawned, awoken by the telltale tweets of the native birds. He lay on his futon, appreciating the softness of its cotton as a chance to flow free from the aches and pains that constrained him. Feeling the heat of the morning sun penetrating the thin layers of his quarters, he propped himself up on his knees, back into the world of reality. In the plains where the camp was based, the sun was a much more prominent feature of the landscape, a stark contrast to the little impact it had on the Mokushujin environment. Using the sun as a get-up call, he instinctively did all his morning procedures: washing, dressing and the like. Emerging from among the neat rows of tents, Corrin heard the mass of the Hoshidans getting ready for the day; if their bustling around was any indication. Although literally the complete opposite of the lifestyle he had lived as a young Nohrian prince, he consumed weird vibes of his childhood and early adulthood whenever he emerged from his tent. Maybe it was the way that the embrace of nature aroused him in the same way Flora and Felicia, Corrin's maids did with their icy breath of the Nohrian Ice Tribe origin. Or maybe it was the sheer contrast of it that was what triggered the vibes. Corrin shrugged it off normally, because he struggled to find any similarities between the two scenarios; even Felicia, his retainer, who had remained loyal to Corrin through his 'betrayal' to Nohr, thought it was best not to help the prince with his morning procedures (maybe, Corrin thought, to prevent embarrassment), and slept in the bachelorette part of the temporary residential district that they so often built.

As usual, Corrin tried not to dwell on his thoughts too much; he decided to take a stroll around the camp, checking to whoever's shift it was for daily duties. These daily duties included scavenging food from nearby orchards and fields, checking or setting up the traps for meat, organising and running the armouries, crafting wooden weapons for training, and cooking and preparing meals for the day. It was safe to say that some were better fit for cooking; Corrin had gathered that Hinoka and her retainers definitely did not gracefully serve up a dish accustomed to everyone's tastes, so he was ready to skip dinner when their shifts came – once they joined the group.

Walking around to the mess hall, Corrin sensed the sweet scent of one of the most prominent Hoshidan fruits, peaches. When the group had left the capital, they took with them the freshest Hoshidan provisions: peaches, daikons, fish and the like. Of course, all of these supplies had been devoured after two weeks of hard walking, but since Hoshido was known to embrace nature, they found many orchards, lakes and fields where they could find more of these foods. Now lakes were few in number, the job had been switched to setting up traps for meat, which normally was surprisingly successful. As such, all sorts of wild smells all flowed at different times throughout the hall and camp, a sign of luxury food to come.

Corrin lifted the flap over his hand, ducking under the entrance and enjoying the sickly sweet scent coming from around the corner. Turning his head, he spotted Sakura amidst an abundance of fresh peaches on an iron tray. Sakura was pouring a sticky mixture onto the peaches, coating them evenly and giving the fruits a gleam unmatched by any other shine. Corrin felt a duty to watch Sakura caramelise the peaches – it was his shift soon, and he did not desire the opportunity to join the ranks of bad chefs, so he followed every moment, trying to commit it to muscle memory.

"Oh, Corrin! H-hi!"

She turned her head whilst still managing to coat the peaches evenly. Although the little red-haired girl was timid by nature, Corrin's friendly and understanding nature had helped her warm up to many of the Hoshidans. Although she still stuttered from time to time, Corrin was genuinely impressed with how she had changed since he met her after being captured by Kaze and Rinkah.

"Hey Sakura. Is that breakfast? The peaches look great."

Corrin began to follow Sakura as she opened up a flap to where a fire was burning outside, and then took the tray with her.

"Yes, it is! I h-have prepared some caramelised peaches. There will be plenty to go around; I hope everyone enjoys my food!"

Sakura gently lowered the tray onto a metal stand which overhung the fire, and left the peaches to simmer and caramelise.

Corrin grinned. "It's my turn to prepare breakfast soon, can you give me some tips? I don't want to be seen as bad a cook as Rinkah." He laughed at this remark, knowing that whenever Rinkah cooked, the group would prefer to fast for a day, however nice the meal sounded.

"Um, well for the p-peaches, you have to…"

"Hyaaah!"

Oboro gripped the wooden naginata strongly in her battle-scarred hands. She was getting fatigued, lashing constantly out at Hinata, her fellow retainer. Hinata, swishing his ponytail at regular interviews, was wielding a wooden katana which was beginning to splinter from Oboro's offense. His constant parrying of her constant attacks made him sceptical to his own offensive capabilities. Sure, his defence obviously worked, if parrying was anything to go by, but if he couldn't put that defence to good use, he would never be as good a warrior as Oboro said he was. After all, the curved shape in the weapon he specialised in, the katana, was designed for offensive purposes. However, for Hinata, actually being able to approach Oboro was a problem. Even though her naginata was smaller than most, at six feet in total, she held the naginata slightly in front of her, meaning she was still about three feet away from the blade of her weapon. Although Hinata knew damage of the weapon relative to the blade was small, with skill, the naginata could overpower any other, and that was perhaps why Hinata admired Oboro's fighting skills so much.

Oboro stepped back and took a deep breath. Hinata was excellently blocking her attacks, but had not been courageous enough to go for an attack. Even after only five minutes, both of their wooden blades were beginning to crack and splinter. It was only a matter of time before one shattered; their normal personalised iron weapons were preserved for non-training battles, so they did not have to be unnecessarily polished or repaired. The many wooden ones which were only for spars were quickly put together and as such had a very small lifetime. This was a problem, as training led to splinters covering the otherwise natural arena.

Wielding her naginata in a defensive stance, Oboro used the method she had been taught at the very start of learning naginatajutsu to align her feet with the blade and the middle of the handle. This would give her the upper hand and would also make her footwork clean and effective,which would hopefully allow her to outsmart Hinata. Her fellow retainer took the bait, lunging forward, katana continuing the straight line his arms made. Oboro sidestepped to the right. He was now vulnerable to her attacks. Expertly twisting the naginata, she hit Hinata's armor with the wooden blade. The wood did not make so much of a stratch against the iron of the plate, however it snapped instantly, sending splinters ricocheting everywhere. Both of the retainers instinctively shielded themselves from the mass of wooden bullets coming their way, preventing most of the shards hitting their skin. As Oboro listened to the splinters piercing her armour, she looked at the naginata which was now just a bladeless stick in her hand. The training sessions were never long due to the incompetence of the wood; the match was over as soon as anyone's blade broke. Hinata inspected his sword, which was also cracked, but smiled and walked over to Oboro.

"Aww man! You're one tough cookie, Oboro!" Hinata chuckled in his usual, almost painfully casual way of speaking. "You gotta teach me sometime!" He propped the damaged katana on his shoulder, as other Hoshidans gathered for morning practice.

"Hinata, what do I keep telling you? Lord Takumi"-she said Lord Takumi in a distant trance, which Hinata interpreted as a dream of the future when the two were married-"is happy with both of our abilities, I see no reason for you to improve. I only won because I had the weapon advantage, you see? You can definitely hold your own in battle; you've proved that multiple times. Besides, Lord Takumi"-another trance-"would not want you to be displeased at your ability, would he? I think it's best for everyone to count their advantages and think optimistically. Just look at Setsuna; she is the most optimistic person I've ever met, although... heh, a bit oblivious at times."

Hinata thought for a moment as they walked in the direction of the mess hall. "You know, Oboro? You're great. I still wish I could be like you, but you're a great friend and one tough cookie, if I do say so myself!" he said, before chuckling at Oboro's confused face, which seemed to mirror the whole prospect of the journey to Nohr for him. Regardless, he retained a slightly serious attitude (completely serious was an impossibility for some Hoshidans).

"Thanks, Hinata."

Oboro had taken off her wooden breastplate and was lugging it behind her. She was wearing her usual blue and baby orange fitted kimono under the breastplate; Hinata was pretty sure Oboro had atleast five variants of her uniform, all handmade by her. Her love for sewing, pattern cutting, designing and the like was almost a gene passed down by her parents; she was the tailor to the group, supplying them with tunics, dresses, leggings and kimonos to wear either on the battlefield or on a normal day at the camp.

"Sorry for the short talk, but I have to deliver my armour to… Kagero, is it? She's on duty right now, I think… and then I have to check the animal traps. I'll see you later!"

The seamstress took a turn for a big tent located on the eastern most side of the camp, still lugging the breastplate. Hinata walked alone, listening to calls of birds echoing off the branches which lined the southern forest, and entered the mess hall.

Hinoka looked up. All she could see were the stars, protruding out of what was otherwise a clear, night blue sky. Placing her gloved hands instinctively on her pegasus Zena, she stepped slowly forwards, eyes still stuck at the night sky, hands still stroking Zena's snow white fur. Notre Sagesse had proven to be a great help to both her and her retainers, but she wished to get back in touch with the army, especially to her husband and baby daughter. It had been some months, and as a liege she felt as if she had failed her mother, since her retainers had not had the pleasure of meeting Corrin. Especially given that he was the sole reason for her relationship with Zena today, she wanted nothing than to be able to prove herself in battle to him, and to also be able to explain to him what it meant to her when he was captured.

She smoothed her short, red and white armour. Although Hinoka normally hated armour, she admired the craftsmanship that Oboro had shown when making it. It was light, and the shoulder guards were sown against a comfortable white leather strip. The standard royal crest was sown on both sides of her chest: the crest was designed to be reminiscent of the official Hoshidan emblem. It was something that Hinoka appreciated almost as much as she appreciated Zena.

Although Azama, one of her retainers, hated her for it, she always allowed the both of them to get more sleep than her. As such, whilst the two were asleep, Hinoka was still out staring into the night sky. She started thinking, thinking about what would have happened if Corrin chose to side with the Nohrians she had come to loathe over the years. She cringed at the prospect of seeing Corrin as an enemy, however, for the time being, she just tried to be grateful at the fact that he had sided with the kingdom he had not known for long. The repose that surrounded her after a hard day was absorbed and cherished, and she smiled, knowing that the world was the very embrace of fate itself. As she finished petting her pegasus, she turned towards the west, hoping for days of reunion in a foreign land.

A/N: (This is written after the chapter and before I write the foreword - I'm writing this before starting chapter 2 and the foreword is written just before publication) So that was it. I honestly think I overdid this part with trying to expand upon elements in the game, as well as trying new ideas. I just felt I had to fill in all the backstory up to this point, and get a few interactions between characters. However, as different scenarios not located in Birthright begin to arise hopefully my creativity can shine through. The story will not be focusing primarily on the battles; most of it will focus on the normal daily life of the Hoshidans and Corrin / Setsuna.

Next chapter might (edit: Setsuna's first appearance is in chapter 3) involve the introduction of Setsuna to Corrin, it will be fun writing their little scenes before they get to know each other, especially with Setsuna's personality. It might come the week after this is published, or a fortnight after. Regardless, I'll make a schedule and try to stick to it.

Also try to correct my grammar if you see mistakes, it really helps in the long run for me.

-Ben