Kaori stood at the base of the Training Tower, her eyes scanning the roster of Heroes yet to complete their drills. The sun had risen and set three times, but she hadn't allowed herself the luxury of rest. She rubbed her temple, her fingers brushing against the stray strands of her dark hair that had escaped her ponytail. A deep sigh escaped her lips, though she quickly straightened as Tharja approached.

  "Another round?" Tharja moaned in annoyance, her tone was as flat as ever, though her dark eyes held an unspoken curiosity.

  "Yes, Tharja," Kaori replied firmly. "You've been doing well, but we need to refine your strategies for group combat. Just take a five minute break, then we'll go again."

  Tharja rolled her eyes and gave a slight shrug and walked off, her dark cloak swaying behind her. Kaori turned back to the list. She still had Niles, Subaki, Lyn, Ephraim, and Camilla to oversee before tackling the next group. Alfonse and Sharena had finished earlier, their cheerful thanks ringing hollow in her ears.

  Unbeknownst to her, Takumi leaned against a nearby pillar, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed her.

  Kaori was slipping.

  Her normally confident stride was sluggish. Her precise commands, though still effective, lacked their usual fire. Even her complexion seemed pale, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy she’d displayed during their first mission.

  Takumi folded his arms, his mouth pressed into a tight line. He'd been watching her push herself for days, driving the Heroes to improve while ignoring her own wellbeing. Enough was enough.

  Kaori's next session with Niles and Subaki was nearing its end when Takumi finally stepped forward. The moment she dismissed the two Heroes after they have completed the eighth floor of the Training Tower, he strode into her path, bowstring taut in his gloved hand.

  "We need to talk," he said, his voice firm.

  Kaori blinked up at him, her tired eyes meeting his determined gaze. "Can it wait? I still have more training to go through and oversee with those guys—"

  "No," Takumi interrupted, his tone sharp. "It can't."

  The weight in his words stopped her mid-step. She frowned but followed him as he led her to a quiet corner outside the Training Tower. The cool breeze rustled the trees, and Takumi gestured for her to sit on a flat rock nearby.

  "Takumi, I'm fine," Kaori said, though her voice lacked conviction.

  Takumi let out a short, humorless laugh. "You look like you're about to collapse. Do you even remember the last time you ate?"

  Kaori opened her mouth to reply but paused, her mind drawing a blank.

  "That's what I thought."

  From his satchel, Takumi pulled out a cloth bundle. He untied it to reveal a modest meal—rice balls and dried meat. He thrust it toward her, his expression unreadable.

  "Eat."

  Kaori hesitated. "Takumi, I really don't have time for this—mmph!"

  Before she could finish, Takumi let out an exasperated sigh, grabbed a rice ball, and shoved it gently—but firmly—into her mouth. Her protest turned into a muffled noise as she froze, wide-eyed.

  "I don't want to hear another excuse," Takumi warned, crossing his arms and glaring at her like an annoyed sibling. "Chew. Swallow. Then you can argue."

  Kaori stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly began chewing, her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk's. "Okay." Her voice muffled as she nodded, but he can clearly make out that she said the word "okay". Takumi smirked, leaning back against the rock as he folded his arms.

  "See? That wasn’t so hard," he quipped, clearly pleased with himself.

  She shot him a half-hearted glare as she swallowed. "You're lucky that I'm too tired to fight you on this."

  "And you're lucky that I'm too nice to let you starve," Takumi retorted, a smug grin on his face.

  As the tension eased, Takumi leaned back on his hands, his amber eyes studying her sitting form as she continues to eat the food he provided for her. "You're not just pushing yourself because of training, are you?"

  Kaori paused mid-bite, her heart skipping. She met his gaze and found it unrelenting. He was perceptive, far more than she had given him credit for.

  "I... I just want to make sure everything is perfect," she said carefully.

  Takumi raised an eyebrow. "Perfect? Or are you trying to make up for something?"

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Her hands tightened around the rice ball. 'Well... I'm trying to make up for what happened back then...' Her guilty indigo eyes formed as she thought her answer that she wanted to say out loud. Kaori looked away from his gaze, her own eyes focused on the horizon. "Does it... actually matter?"

  "Yes, it does," Takumi said, his voice softer now. "I get it. You're carrying something heavy. I don't know what it is, but I know what it's like to feel like you have to prove yourself."

  Kaori’s gaze flicked back to him, surprised.

  "I was the second prince of Hoshido," he continued, a bitter edge to his tone. "I was always constantly in my siblings' shadows. I've always been doubting if I was good enough. It's not the same, but... I know how it feels to push yourself too hard."

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet was broken only by the rustling leaves.

  "I'll try to slow down," Kaori finally said. "But it's hard to let go of the pressure."

  "Then let me help," Takumi said. "You're not alone in this, Kaori."

  Her chest tightened at his words. She gave him a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Takumi."

  The next morning, Kaori returned to the Training Tower with renewed energy. Though still focused, she allowed herself moments to breathe, delegating some tasks to Heroes like Ephraim and Camilla. Takumi stayed close, offering quiet support and occasionally shooting her a teasing remark to lighten the mood.

  Destiny, watching from a distance, clenched her fists as she grits her teeth in anger. The sight of Kaori receiving Takumi's attention made her blood boil. Why was the Goddess of Destiny—a being of immense power—being overshadowed by a mere mortal?

  "Enjoy your moment," she murmured under her breath, her lips curving into a bitter smile. "It won't last long."

  As Kaori worked alongside the Heroes, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. But when she glanced over her shoulder, all she saw was the sky stretching endlessly above.

  For now, she pushed the thought aside. There was work to be done—and for the first time in days, she felt like she could handle it.

  After training up Ephraim and Camilla, Kaori strolled through the Askran Castle hallways, her footsteps light and unhurried. The day's work was done, and she welcomed the rare chance to wander aimlessly. As she passed a particular room, something caught her eye—a piano, sitting alone in a quiet chamber.

  She stopped in her tracks, tilting her head. The instrument looked untouched, its polished ivory surface gleaming faintly in the soft light of the room. After glancing around to ensure no one was nearby, she smiled to herself. 'The coast is clear...'

  With a soft hum of satisfaction, Kaori slipped into the music room, quietly closing the door behind her. She approached the piano, her long sand-beige hair swaying slightly as she leaned down to lift the lid. She pressed a single white key, holding her breath as the note rang out.

  'Looks like it's still in tune. Thank goodness,' she murmured, her lips curling into a small smile. Without hesitation, she pulled out the stool and settled herself in front of the piano, her fingers brushing lightly over the keys.

  At first, she played softly, letting her hands move instinctively across the chords. The melody she played was one she hadn’t touched since her first life, but the notes came to her as naturally as breathing. Soon, she began to sing, her voice filling the room:

  "It's underneath my skin, these godforsaken memories / The puppet takes the stage, she’ll carry on..."

  Her voice was clear, each word carrying the weight of emotions she'd locked away. Kaori closed her eyes, letting the song take her to a place only she knew—a place where sorrow and determination intertwined.

  "Forgotten who I am, but all the world keeps telling me / It may be where you live but it’s not your home..."

  Unbeknownst to her, Takumi was passing by when the faint sound of music reached his ears. He paused, frowning as he listened. The melody was unfamiliar, but it was Kaori's voice that made him stop in his tracks.

  "I got a one way ticket straight out of here / And I don’t know where it goes / It’s not the destination, it’s the crawl..."

  Curiosity tugged at him as he followed the sound to the music room. He peered inside, staying in the shadow of the doorway. There she was, seated at the piano, singing a song he didn’t recognize:

  "Was it out of love, or out of fear? If you ask me, I don't know..."

  Takumi's brows furrowed as he watched her. The Kaori he knew was composed, focused, always working tirelessly for the Heroes under her command. But here, she seemed... vulnerable. The words she sang carried a pain he hadn’t seen in her before, and it stirred something in him—a desire to understand.

  "You forget how to want, once you’ve had it all..."

  "You've got a good voice," Takumi said, his voice breaking the silence and interrupting her song.

  Kaori jumped, pressing the wrong keys that sounded extremely horrible. "AH!" She yelped and instantly spun herself around to see him leaning casually against the doorframe. "Takumi! I—H-How long have you been standing there?!" she stammered, her face flushing in embarrassment.

  "Long enough," he replied, stepping into the room. "What was that song? I've never heard it before."

  Kaori hesitated, her hands tightening on her lap. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that the song was a fragment of a life she was trying to rewrite. "It's... just something I made up," she said, forcing a small smile.

  Takumi tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. "You’re a terrible liar, you know that?" His tone was light, but his amber eyes were serious. "You've been different lately. If something’s bothering you, you can tell me."

  Kaori’s heart twisted at his concern, but she shook her head. "It's nothing. Really." A pause. The sand-beige haired Summoner looked away, her heart aching at his concern. He didn’t know the full truth—how could he? And yet, his words offered a warmth she hadn’t realized she needed.

  "But... Thanks, Takumi," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I know that I can always confide in you, but... some things... are better to be left unsaid."

  He frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned on the edge of the piano, folding his arms in the process. "Well, if you're not going to tell me, at least promise me one thing: don't carry it all by yourself. Like I said earlier - you're not alone here, Kaori. Not anymore."

  His words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, Kaori felt the weight on her shoulders lighten. She nodded, a faint smile returning to her lips.

  "Thanks, Takumi," she nodded with a small, grateful smile, this time with more sincerity.

  "I mean it. Just... tell me when you're ready." The Hoshidan Prince gave her a small, sincere smile and as he left the room, Kaori turned back to the window, her fingers brushing over the keys once more. The melody of "Take Me Anywhere" lingered in her mind, but so did the warmth of Takumi's words. For the first time in a long while, the weight on her shoulders felt a little lighter.