Chapter Text
The distinct and sharp knocking on her door is enough for her eyes to fling open. Y/N groans, turning over in the sheets and stretching her spine out.
“Y/N, you should be up by now. If I don’t see you by the door in a minute's time I’ll grab the iciest water I can.” The slam of a boot on her door has her rolling her eyes and peeling the warmth of the blanket from her body. The dewy chill of an Inazuman morning has her skin puckering with goosebumps. Breathing an array of breathy curses, she slides off the edge of her bed and slips her night shirt over her head.
The door slams again, “Y/N, may Baal guide you, you have ten sec—“
“For fuck’s sake! I’m coming.” The hiss of her voice silences her mother on the other side of the door. With the little found peace, Y/N pulls open a drawer of bras and picks the one from the top without sparing the color or style so much as a glance. She hooks her bra and stops at her bathroom to retrieve her hair brush. With a few gentle tugs she deems her hair ‘good enough,’ splashing her face sparingly with cool water.
It’s not as though she doesn’t love her family- quite the opposite really. Y/N has done all she can to impress them. An Inazuman darling is what she became, a startling and steadfast fighter. Goodness, Y/N was practically a genius with all forms of combat, swift on her feet and faster with her lashing tongue. She wasn’t a prize to be won, but to be earned, respected. She shakes her head at the thought, opening the doors of her closet.
With only a slight glance at the clock, Y/N determines the morning to be too early for a family tea or some request. Any lessons worked into her schedule start around noon, so it must be something from the Almighty Shogunate.
Chewing at her cheeks, she reaches into the closet. Her eyes instantly found themselves purchasing the green tones, her favorite color. It also happened to be complementary to the fire-toned hair floating over and down her narrow-boned shoulders. She swipes through every hanger, considering the haramaki armor, the heftiest and strongest item in her entire closet. Peering at it, she tilts her head, sighs and then pushes it along.
Settling on a professional look, she decides that if it’s a command regarding The Vision Hunt Decree it’d be best to dress in a respectful but roomy dress; traditional Inazuman apparel, it is. A white and black nagajuban slithers off the hook and Y/N fishes out an everest-green Haori to wear over-top from the depths of her closet. A pair of her and Kujou Sara’s signature one-toothed geta and she’s set.
With a huff, Y/N looks into the long mirror beside her bed, smoothing out the wrinkles by her waist where the fabric bunches. Retreating from it, she turns to the door but pauses and does a double take.
Her green, shallow and silent eyes catch themselves in the mirror. Shivering, she shakes her vision from the mirror.
I must be tired.
She sputters a little and catches the door handle, tilting it down and pulling the door towards her.
The hallway is dimly lit, the morning, haze-like sun gliding across the walls like slick honey and lavender, the tree blossoms spilling into the courtyard. Y/N notices the breathtaking sight through the clear glass, which she assumes must have been cleaned at the crack of dawn. There is not a single scratch on the flashy surface.
The silhouette of a well-figured woman- her mother- bows, her hands clasped appropriately ahead of her. While Y/N had never really considered it much, her mother was naturally beautiful. Her skin was a little darker than her own, as though the sun had spooled her skin. Her hair was glossy as well, slinking down to just below her shoulders. Gold embroidered her throat and ears, the jewelry jingling as she cleared her chest.
“Good morning, Y/N.” Her mother’s face nods, as though she hadn’t just harassed her daughter to wake up at five-fifteen-am. Managing the nicest smile she could bargain for, Y/N bows respectfully in return. Stepping back, her mother's mousy brown hair and vibrant eyes grant her passage. “Kujou Sara has sent for you, a slippery criminal of some sorts.. None of the people she’s dispatched can quite get a hold of him, I suppose. She should invest in better men for dispatch…” Trailing on, she flaps her hands, “anyways, I think you could do better, yes. You can both go out like when you were little. Maybe she can teach you some tricks, you’re getting a little slow.” She hums, twirling around as her traditional dress flares around her body almost invisibly. She walks off with her sandals clicking, her fan beckoning Y/N to follow. “Do catch him, it would be a shame to disappoint the Electro Archon. It’s nothing against you hon, but Sara is blessed. I wonder if you’re not devoted enough.”
(text break)Y/N watches her snuff, stomach curling. Her brain is caught on a cord of distraught failure, the end of the cable growing heavier and heavier, her mind falling further, further. Further. Further.
A servant taps Y/N’s shoulder as she fumbles, eyes flashing to meet hers and guiding her along with a faint tug. “Yes mom.” She grunts, eyebrows flattening and her face scrunching into a scowl.
“Good,” she says, turning to Y/N. Y/N instantly lifts her expression like a cotton swab sweeping away makeup, “you are to meet “Kujou Sara at The Tenshukaku. Go quickly.“
Before she is given the heartbeat to open her lips, her mother has already shut the door in her face. Y/N’s throat bobs, her stomach curdling like spoilt milk and rotten fruit. The servant, tucking his head down and scuttling off doesn’t look back either. Y/N sighs at the deja-vu aspect of it all and trots off.
‘Off to find Kujou Sara,’ She thinks.
And off to find Kujou Sara, she is.