Story:

Violet gestured at the mountain shrine around them "The rift, the answers are here, near Fuji, and Shiro is the one who has spent her life closest to them all. The little miko we saved is tied to this mystery at its heart—I can feel her thread in it too, I don't know how yet, but I know I must follow it."

Her voice dropped. "So I cannot return to Kyoto with Nobunaga. And with you. I am sorry, Kicho, our holiday is over."

The autumn wind moved the maples. A carp broke the surface of the pond with a soft gulp.

Kicho looked into Euphy's eyes.

Not at the words—at the eyes. Because her elder sister, the Violet Witch, was a creature of jokes and teasing and dramatic sighs, who cried wolf a dozen times a day and hid every genuine emotion behind a theatrical flourish, and Kicho had spent their whole lives learning to tell the counterfeit from the real.

And this—this steadiness, this quiet weight, the total absence of performance—

Euphy was serious this time. Truly, gravely,

And Kicho, the Fairy Princess, wife of Oda Nobunaga, weighed it for less than one second. Less than one second—and the scale never even wavered.

"Then I am staying with you, Onee-chan."

Euphy blinked. "...Kicho, the war—Nobunaga—"

"Can manage his war," said Kicho, with a serenity that surprised even herself. "It means leaving our lord Nobunaga alone on the battlefield." She smiled faintly.

"But he has a thirty thousand red-armored troops, an entire clan behind him. You—you have only me."

Between sisters, no more words were needed. Their thoughts and emotions had always flowed together through the resonance of magic, without misunderstanding.

Kicho knew that if their positions were reversed, Euphy would have chosen exactly the same—no slower by half a beat.

The Violet Witch's eyes filled with warmth. She reached out and gripped her sister's hand tight.

"Then come," her lips curving back into that familiar, dazzling, mischievous arc, "let's go give our Danna-sama a proper farewell."