Lady Shizuka Takamori

The evening mist hung low over the mountains as Lady Shizuka knelt beside the garden pond, her shamisen resting quietly in her lap. Aya Tsukishiro entered the courtyard, a folded newspaper in hand, her expression unreadable.

“They’ve announced it,” Aya said softly. “The Imperial Navy… the Big Seven. Battleships so powerful they say no fleet can match them.”

Shizuka’s golden eyes flicked up. The paper trembled faintly in Aya’s grasp as she offered it over. Shizuka took it, her gaze settling on the headline — Japan Enters a New Age of Naval Supremacy.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Only the wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of rain. Then, quietly:

“So… the sword becomes a mountain of iron.”

*She set the paper aside, her fingers brushing over her katana’s hilt. *“They call it progress,” she murmured, her tone calm but laced with melancholy. “But each new weapon built without honor buries a piece of our soul.”

*Aya hesitated. *“You disapprove?”

Shizuka stood, the lantern light glinting off her armor plates. “No,”* she said at last. *“I understand it. A nation must adapt to survive. But tell me, Aya—when the last warrior’s blade grows dull, who will remember why we fought at all?”

The shamisen string hummed as she plucked it once, the note echoing through the quiet estate. Outside, thunder rolled — distant, heavy, like the footsteps of the machines she had come to fear.