As soon as the last of the shadow guards disappeared beyond the towering doors, the cold atmosphere of the throne room shifted. The frost in the air lted, replaced by an unexpected warmth. The rigid posture of Empress Aya softened, and the ice in her piercing blue eyes thawed into sothing far more tender.
Kaguya blinked in surprise. It had been a long ti since she had seen this side of her mother—the side that was not the Empress of the Cherry Blossom Empire, but simply Aya, the woman who had once been a loving, doting mother before the weight of the crown had hardened her.
Aya let out a soft sigh, her lips curving ever so slightly. "It has been too long since we have spent ti together, my little moonflower."
Kaguya’s heart clenched at the nostalgic nickna, a remnant of her childhood. She had always been her mother’s "moonflower," nad for her pale beauty and the way she seed to glow under the moonlight.
Kaguya allowed herself to relax, a genuine smile forming on her lips. "It really has, Mother."
Aya stood gracefully, descending the steps of the dais. Without her imperial mask, she looked younger, softer. Reaching out, she brushed a strand of Kaguya’s hair behind her ear, a rare display of affection.
"Co," Aya said. "Tonight, I am not the Empress, and you are not the Crown Princess. Just a mother and daughter. Let’s have fun."
Kaguya felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I’d love that."
Together, they left the grand throne hall, stepping into a hidden corridor that led to Aya’s private residence—a secluded estate within the palace grounds. The structure was far less intimidating than the grand palace, built in traditional architecture with elegant wooden fras, sliding doors, and a beautiful garden filled with cherry blossom trees that shimred under the moonlight.
Inside, Aya changed into a more comfortable outfit—a flowing lavender yukata with silver embroidery—before heading into the kitchen.
Kaguya leaned against the doorway, watching as her mother tied her long white hair into a loose bun and rolled up her sleeves. The sight of the Empress of the Cherry Blossom Empire preparing to cook was almost surreal.
"You’re actually going to cook?" Kaguya teased, crossing her arms. "Should I prepare the royal physicians just in case?"
Aya shot her a playful glare. "Cheeky as ever. I’ll have you know that I was quite skilled before royal duties took over my life."
Kaguya chuckled, moving to help. "Fine, fine. I’ll assist you then."
The two worked side by side in the spacious kitchen, an activity they hadn’t done in years. Aya prepared fresh fish, skillfully slicing it into thin, delicate sashimi, while Kaguya prepared the rice and miso soup. They chatted about trivial things—fond mories, old palace scandals, and the mischievous pranks Kaguya used to play as a child.
Before long, the table was filled with beautifully arranged dishes: a steaming hotpot, grilled fish glazed with a savory sauce, pickled vegetables, and a plate of colorful sushi rolls.
Once everything was ready, they sat across from each other, sharing a al in a way that felt far more intimate than any grand banquet.
Aya took a sip of tea before looking at her daughter. "I have missed this."
Kaguya swallowed a bite of sushi and nodded. " too."
After finishing their al, they moved to the sitting room, where a variety of gas and activities had been set up.
"Shall we start with shogi?" Aya suggested, gesturing to the board.
Kaguya smirked. "Only if you’re prepared to lose."
The ga began, both won moving their pieces with sharp precision. Kaguya had always prided herself on her strategic mind, but Aya was just as cunning. Their battle of wits stretched on, each move more intense than the last.
"You’re holding back," Aya noted, narrowing her eyes.
Kaguya grinned. "Maybe just a little. I didn’t want to make my mother feel old."
Aya raised a brow before making a move that completely turned the ga in her favor. "Checkmate."
Kaguya blinked. "What?! When did—?"
Aya chuckled, pleased with herself. "Experience, my dear."
Pouting, Kaguya crossed her arms. "Fine. One loss. But let’s see how you handle sothing more active."
They moved on to a more physical ga—a test of reflexes using enchanted wooden swords that emitted a soft glow. The goal was to tap the opponent’s wrist or shoulder while dodging their strikes.
Kaguya expected her mother to be slow, but Aya surprised her with swift, elegant movents. Despite her years on the throne, her reflexes were razor-sharp.
By the end, both won were slightly breathless, but laughter filled the air.
As the night wore on, they tried different activities—painting in the garden under the lanterns, playing the koto together, and even indulging in a ga of riddles, which ended in Kaguya groaning at how effortlessly her mother solved them all.
Eventually, they settled into the warm comfort of the tatami mat, sipping on sweet plum wine as the night stretched on.
Kaguya looked at her mother, who gazed at the moonlit garden with a rare, peaceful expression.
"Mother," Kaguya said softly. "Can we do this more often?"
Aya turned to her, her expression gentle. "Of course. No matter what burdens we carry, I will always make ti for you, my little moonflower."
Kaguya smiled, resting her head against her mother’s shoulder, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.
For tonight, there were no royal duties, no expectations—just a mother and daughter cherishing the rare monts they had together.
Kaguya closed her eyes for a mont, letting the warmth of her mother’s presence wash over her. The gentle scent of plum wine and cherry blossoms lingered in the air, mixing with the soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. She felt safe, cherished—truly loved.
For so long, she had known her mother as the unshakable Empress, a woman of ice and duty, whose every decision shaped the fate of an empire. But tonight, she was simply Aya—the mother who used to cradle her in her arms, who once told her bedti stories under the glow of paper lanterns, who had always been there, even when her responsibilities pulled her away.
Kaguya tightened her hold around her mother’s arm, a rare display of affection she didn’t often allow herself to show. "I really am lucky to have you," she murmured.
Aya stroked Kaguya’s hair gently, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "I should be the one saying that. You’ve grown into such a strong, capable woman. But no matter how much ti passes, you will always be my little moonflower."
Kaguya sighed, content. "Promise we’ll have more nights like this?"
Aya pressed a light kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. "I promise."
And in that mont, Kaguya knew that no matter what trials awaited her in the future, she would always have this—this warmth, this love, this unbreakable bond with the woman who had given her life.
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