He says, "I'll stay with you," not, "I'll protect you."
He says, "We'll be together," not, "I like you."
This is a story set in a turbulent era. That young man is a prodigious swordsman, but he has contracted the notorious wasting disease.
Samurai. Blood. Falling cherry blossoms. Konpeito. Consumption.
Shh, even if you've guessed who he is, don't say it out loud. Otherwise, this illusory dream might not be able to go on.
"Drip." Warm liquid splashed onto her face. The girl looked up and, flustered, wiped the liquid from the boy's face. But his reflection appeared nowhere in her dark eyes. "Why are you crying?" The girl's pale fingers were stained a startling crimson.
"She cannot see the light."
In that case, let me follow you. Let me be with you.
The author is a history buff. I went crazy over a certain historical figure, but when I started writing, I found I couldn't rein in my urge to research every detail. Since I couldn't write anything that went against the historical record, I had no choice but to make this an alternate history.
And so this story came to be.
I give you a world. I hope you can be happy.
P.S. This is an original alternate history, so anything goes.
