And she waited in her tower of stone,
waiting for the day when her prince would return and set her free.
“I wonder why princesses always had a prince come and rescue them...”
This thought, like a persistent melody, often surfaced in Crystilline Heiwa Yuy’s mind. Another damsel, languishing in a tower, concluded her story; a brave prince’s arrival was imminent. It was a recurring theme in her life, these fairy tales, yet they left her with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Why was it always the princess who needed rescuing? Why couldn’t the prince be the one awaiting salvation?
With a soft thud, she closed the worn, leather-bound book, its pages filled with stories of magic and chivalry. She leaned back into the cushions of the leather couch, her Persian blue eyes surveying the vast library. Towering bookshelves, stretching from the patterned ceiling to the polished floor, lined the walls. A grand bay window offered a glimpse of the manicured garden below, a verdant oasis enclosed by imposing walls that seemed to touch the very sky.
A sigh escaped her lips, a sound tinged with a melancholy she couldn’t quite explain. Rising from the couch, Crystilline made her way into the expansive hallway, its marble floor cool beneath her bare feet. The third floor, her domain, held only three rooms: the library, her own bedroom, and her adoptive father’s private chambers. The latter was off-limits, a silent testament to the boundaries that defined her life.
A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she descended the grand staircase, her steps light and eager. In the foyer, she slipped into a pair of worn boots, sprinting towards the French back doors that led to the garden. Her destination was the solitary willow tree, its branches reaching towards the heavens. Tying her hair behind her neck with practiced ease, she began her climb.
This ancient willow was her refuge, a silent confidant to her restless spirit. Countless times she had scaled its rough bark, enduring scrapes, falls, and near misses. It was the only vantage point that allowed her to peer over the formidable walls that surrounded the sprawling Hawaiian estate. Since Crystilline’s arrival at age five, this estate comprised her entire world, with memories before that fading into fragmented dreams. The main manor, a three-story tower of cream-colored walls and a light brown terracotta roof, housed her and her adoptive father. Smaller matching structures dotted the landscape, housing the small staff.
Her adoptive father, David, was a man of routine and precision. Home life operated with meticulous attention to every aspect, even the windowsill flowers. The servants moved with quiet efficiency, ensuring that David could work undisturbed in his private study. To the staff, he was a strict overseer, but to Crystilline, he was a loving, if somewhat distant, father. He had only one rule: she was never to leave the property. A rule that, given her inherent curiosity, was a continual struggle. She remembered a time David caught her venturing beyond the gates and confined her to her room for two weeks as punishment. Never did she try such foolishness again.
But the willow tree was Crystilline’s loophole, her escape. She had discovered it soon after arriving, drawn to its ancient presence. Its bark felt rough against her skin, and its branches offered natural handholds. Her first attempts at climbing were clumsy, ending in tears and bruises. But she persisted. Year after year, she climbed higher, her determination fueled by a longing to see what lay beyond her familiar walls. She remembered a harrowing fall at nine years old, which landed her in the hospital, a rare glimpse of the world outside her compound. It resulted in a severe reprimand and two months of confinement. Yet, even that didn’t deter her.
She reached the summit. Perched on a sturdy branch, she could just peek over the wall. And there it was: the vast ocean. From her bedroom window, she could catch whiffs of the salty air, but from atop the willow, she could see it, stretching to the horizon. Sunrises painted the sky in hues of gold and pink, and the endless blue fueled her imagination with dreams of faraway lands and uncharted adventures.
“Again with the tree, Crystilline?” A voice startled her, almost causing her to lose her grip. With a sigh, Crystilline descended, preparing herself for the familiar scolding of Terra, her nanny and confidante.
Terra had been a constant presence in Crystilline’s life, tending to her every need, from scraped knees to teenage tantrums. She was more than just a caregiver; she was a surrogate mother, a friend. Her bright blonde hair and green eyes stood in stark contrast to Crystilline’s own brownish-blonde hair and Persian blue eyes. Born on the mainland, Terra’s parents had sought refuge in the sun-kissed shores of Hawaii.
“Do you have knowledge about the history of this tree?” Terra asked, her gaze following the willow’s towering form.
“It’s got a history?” Came Crystilline’s curiosity.
“David brought it from his homeland, Japan.” Terra looked up at the tree. “It was a mere sapling, clinging to life after the long journey. He nursed it back to health, watched it grow into this magnificent tree.” Her eyes softened as she gazed up at the willow. “It was all he brought with him when he left.”
Crystilline’s curiosity piqued. “Why did he leave?”
“Family issues.” Terra added, “He and his brother were at odds. David left, taking only this tree as a reminder. It symbolizes the potential for a brighter future after overcoming a difficult past by letting go and starting fresh. You’re lucky you didn’t fall this time. How many times must I tell you not to climb that tree? You could injure yourself.”
Crystilline knew Terra’s words came from a place of genuine concern. Her primary responsibility was Crystilline’s well-being and education. Confined within the estate’s walls, Crystilline’s classroom was the library, and Terra was her teacher.
“I just can’t help it,” Crystilline tilted her head back to gaze at the sky. “I feel like a princess in a tower.”
“You and your fairy tales,” Terra chuckled. “You always loved them.”
“Why does it seem like it’s always the girl facing trouble?” Crystilline kicked a small stone down the path. “Why can’t she save herself for once? Or save the guy?”
“Perhaps the authors wanted to show that women could rely on men in times of danger,” Terra shrugged. “But I admire your desire for female agency. Sometimes women are the protectors, the saviors. It all depends on who is stronger.”
“Why presume men possess superior strength?” Crystilline persisted.
Terra gave her a gentle, maternal look. “Perhaps men symbolize protecting the innocent from the world’s evils.”
“But—” Crystilline began, but Terra patted her head.
“Your curiosity is understandable, given that this place has been your only home. I came to tell you that David wants to see you. It sounds important.”
A wide smile lit up Crystilline’s face. Interactions with David had become less frequent, but they were always precious moments. Despite his apathetic demeanor, he was a loving father, full of wisdom and captivating stories. He was the one who had sparked her love of fairy tales. However, his busy schedule had distanced him, though she understood. Running the estate required financial stability, and David was the sole provider.
Inside the manor, Terra and Crystilline walked past walls adorned with portraits of David’s ancestors, faces that remained unfamiliar to her. David had adopted her to carry on his legacy, she had been told.
David was in his office, his fingers flying across the keyboard, crisp tan slacks and a pressed white shirt his usual garb. Terra once described David as a successful businessman, supporting many livelihoods, justifying his long hours.
Terra left Crystilline at the door, leaving her alone with her adoptive father. Respectful of his work, she waited until he acknowledged her.
“Terra caught you in your tree again, didn’t she?” His eyes fixed on the screen before him, David’s tone held amusement rather than disappointment. Crystilline remained silent. Despite his warmth, she knew better than to risk his disapproval. “I’m surprised you haven’t given her a heart attack yet. You’ve always been rambunctious,” he clicked the mouse. “I’m half tempted to postpone your birthday party today.”
Crystilline’s eyes widened. She had forgotten her own birthday! It was today.
“But it would be a waste,” David said, “So you’ll have to wait for your birthday present tomorrow. Don’t give me that look, Crystilline.” A look of fatherly love. “The party will have plenty of gifts.”
“But yours is the most special one,” Crystilline’s voice held a hint of hopeful anticipation. She watched David, a small smile playing on his lips in response to her words.
“Patience...” His voice always seemed to hold a hidden depth. He pushed back from his large oak desk, the leather of his chair creaking. “It will be worth it, I promise.” He rounded the desk, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As he approached her, his tall frame seemed to loom, not threatening, but with a sense of protective authority she had always known.
“Shall we, Miss Twenty?” he asked, his black eyes twinkling with a fondness she cherished.
A broad grin bloomed across Crystilline’s face. Twenty. The age David always spoke of with a certain significance. The age of adulthood.
Birthdays were always a grand affair within the walls of the Hawaiian estate, but hers were legendary, the biggest celebration of the year. This particular birthday marked her crossover into legal adulthood felt different, heavier, with unspoken expectations. That morning’s celebrations extended late, filled with laughter and good wishes. The grand manor had echoed with music and cheerful shouts. A magnificent cake, laden with countless candles, sat alongside an enormous pile of colorfully wrapped presents. Even the staff received the day off, joining in the fun with a spirited karaoke tournament, a lively dance-off that had everyone in stitches, and several silly carnival games set up on the sprawling lawn. The residence throbbed with life that glorious day; Crystilline, its radiant core.
As the last of the guests and staff retreated to their quarters, a pleasant exhaustion settled over Crystilline. Upon entering her room, she gave a glance to the multitude of gifts carefully arranged along the far wall, colorful proof to the affection of those within the compound. Each gift, no matter how small, held a piece of their shared life within these isolated walls. The day’s excitement had caught up with her, and the soft comfort of her bed beckoned. She changed into her nightgown and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When the first rays of sunlight peeked through her window the next morning, Crystilline made her way downstairs for breakfast, a lingering sense of birthday giddiness still with her. As she sat at the large dining table, the usual spread of fruits and pastries laid out before her, David presented her with a final, unexpected gift.
It sat on a small velvet cushion in front of her–a simple, antique brass key. Its teeth were intricate, its bow worn smooth with age. Utter confusion washed over Crystilline as she picked it up, its weight substantial in her palm. David sat opposite her, taking a sip of his steaming coffee, his gaze steady as she examined the object.
“This key unlocks something very important,” His voice carried a newfound gravitas. “I was to give it to you once you were an adult. It is your choice if you wish to use it, but be warned, Crystilline.” His black eyes held a serious intensity, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite decipher–decision, perhaps, mixed with a subtle undercurrent of regret? “Once you have opened Pandora’s box, it is impossible to close it back up.”
“What does the key unlock?” she turned the key over in her fingers. The item’s size was insufficient for a car or the manor’s heavy front doors. What secrets could such a tiny piece of metal hold?
“A small box I placed in your room.” His gaze softened. “You can choose to open it or not. That is the gift I am giving you.”
“Um...Okay.” she said, the confusion deepening. “Can I see it now?”
“After breakfast,” he told her, a hint of melancholy now shadowing his features. “Time with loved ones is precious; its limit is uncertain.”
Her stomach full of the familiar comfort of breakfast, Crystilline ascended the winding staircase to her room, her curiosity now piqued. As David had described, a medium-sized wooden box sat on her bed. It looked old, the steel hinges and clasp showing signs of rust. She lifted it; it was light, the wood smooth but worn beneath her fingertips.
“What in the…?” Frowning, she sat down on the edge of the mattress and pulled the small brass key from her pocket. With a slight tremor in her hand, she thrusted it into the keyhole.
A distinct snap echoed in the quiet room as the lock disengaged. She lifted the box’s lid, her breath catching in her throat. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, lay a single manila folder. With hesitant fingers, Crystilline picked it up. It felt thin, yet somehow heavy with unspoken meaning. She opened it, revealing an assortment of organized documents. The first one caught her eye—a birth certificate for someone named Hinako Yuy. Her eyes scanned the details, noting the date. It mirrored her birthday. A shiver traced its way down her spine. Looking further, Hinako Yuy’s name appeared again and again. A wave of dizziness washed over her as the realization slammed into her with the force of a physical blow. The manila folder slipped from her numb fingers, landing on the floral bed linen. These documents were hers. This name was hers.
This was her life before coming to the compound.
“Someone found you near death on the side of the road.” David stood at the threshold of her room, his usual composed demeanor replaced with a palpable sorrow. Never before had he entered her private sanctuary without her explicit invitation. “Your birth certificate was found, unfortunately, after your parents’ passing. I didn’t change your surname, but your first name needed to be changed, in case whoever tried to hurt you wished to find you and finish the job.”
“Then, I’m all alone?” Crystilline breathed out, the words a fragile whisper in the silent room.
David shook his head. “Of course you are not alone. You always have Terra and I.” A flicker of internal conflict crossed his features before he continued, his voice tinged with a hesitant uncertainty she had never heard before. “You have a sibling; A twin brother. We do not know if he is alive or dead.” He gazed at her, his wise black eyes filled with a deep empathy. “The choice is yours now, Crystilline. Do you wish to stay here where it is safe? Or—”
“I’ve got to find him,” she interrupted, springing from the bed, a newfound determination hardening her gaze. “Please.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll provide you with what you need. I am still quite protective of you, thus you will not be going alone.” A slight pout formed on her lips, a childish habit she hadn’t outgrown, and he chuckled. “Whenever I made you do something you disliked, you would always respond like that. This time, I won’t give in. You’ve never been outside these walls, Crystilline. It would be beneficial to you if I provided some guides.”
“Alright, fine.” she conceded, her mind already racing with the possibilities. “When do we leave?” A mix of anxiety and exhilaration bubbled within her—anxiety at the unknown world beyond the walls, but an even stronger pull towards discovering her lost past.
“As soon as you wish,” he told her, his voice filled with a quiet resolve. “No matter what you discover, you will always be my daughter.”
She stared at him, her heart swelling with a complex mix of gratitude and a sudden, poignant understanding of his actions over the years.
“And you’ll always be my dad.” She reached out and hugged him, burying her face in his familiar-smelling shirt. “Thank you. For everything.”
One hour later, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within Crystilline as she stood just beyond the towering gates that had defined her entire life. Sadness at leaving the only home she’d ever known mingled with the thrilling anticipation of the unknown and a tremor of fear for what lay beyond the walls. Terra’s parting advice to pack light resonated now, the small backpack containing a few familiar clothes and a cherished photograph of David feeling both insufficient and a tangible link to the compound. The sheer reality of her impending adventure was sinking in.
David stood at the grand threshold of the manor, a silent figure radiating both strength and a subtle melancholy. He was not alone. Gathered behind him stood the entire staff of the estate, their presence a poignant farewell to the young woman who had grown up amongst them. A tear glistened in Terra’s eye, a mixture of pride in Crystilline’s burgeoning independence and a deep-seated sadness at seeing her leave the sheltered world they had created.
The heavy gates creaked open, revealing a crimson car with tinted windows gliding onto the property. Crystilline gasped, the vehicle a symbol of the world outside. It exuded an air of impressive power and undeniable expense. As the car halted, three figures emerged—all women, her guides into this new chapter.
The driver, hidden behind dark sunglasses, possessed a fiery energy that seemed to emanate from her shock of vibrant red hair. Her black leather jacket and boots spoke of a rebellious spirit, someone who danced to the beat of her own drum.
“So this is the little princess, eh?” she remarked, a hint of amusement in her tone.
The second woman, unlike the first, scoffed, “Oh, Shylene, give it a rest.” Radiating warmth and an almost childlike enthusiasm, she beamed at Crystilline. “Hiya! I’m Sarah Owens.” She rolled her eyes in her sister’s direction. “The annoying one is my sis.”
A third woman, with striking black hair pulled back and piercing blue eyes that held a cautious intelligence, approached Crystilline.
“Don’t you start again.” she warned Sarah before turning her attention to Crystilline. “My name is Ampris Lockheart. I’ll be leading this mission.”
“Mission?” Crystilline’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh! You mean you know where he is?” Hope flickered in her voice.
“Not exactly.” Ampris replied, her gaze thoughtful. “But—”
“This isn’t some pleasure cruise, princess,” Shylene interjected, her earlier amusement fading into a more serious expression. She pushed her sunglasses down, revealing cautious gray eyes that mirrored her sister’s in color but held a different mood. “Outside the castle is a whole different world. You sure you’re ready to leave your swanky little estate?”
Crystilline met Shylene’s gaze with a newfound resolve. She tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, the weight a reassuring presence.
“I admit, I AM a little scared,” she confessed, her voice steady despite the tremor within. “But I’m tired of wondering. I have to know, I NEED to go.”
A slow smirk spread across Shylene’s face. “Not what I expected. You got guts, kid.” She extended a hand towards Crystilline. “Shylene Owens.”
Crystilline reached out and clasped Shylene’s hand, the leather of her glove cool against her skin. “You can call me Crystilline.”
“Wait.” Sarah frowned, her bright expression clouded. “But ain’t your real name Hinako?”
“Yeah.” Crystilline sighed, the unfamiliar name still feeling foreign to her ears. “David named me Crystilline.” She turned, a warm smile gracing her lips as she looked back at the man who had been her father for so long. “I want to keep it, to honor what he’s done for me.”
“Crystilline it is, Crys for short,” Ampris affirmed, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. “If that is alright with you.”
Crystilline smiled. “Yeah. Crys…I like it.”A shortened name became the start of an amazing adventure she was sure would end with jovial beginnings.
“Alright!” Sarah bounced on the balls of her feet. “Girls only road trip!”
With the final preparations complete, David stood, his gaze fixed on Crystilline. He wasn’t the only one wrestling with unspoken anxieties.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Concern laced Terra’s voice as she watched the red car pull away, the heavy gates closing behind it severing Crystilline’s connection. “She’s going to get—”
“She’ll be fine,” David stated with a quiet certainty, though a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes. He turned and walked back towards the house, the staff following, their duties resuming as if to fill the void left by Crystilline’s departure. “After all, she has the moon on her side.”
David raised his hand, his gesture conveying a silent plea for trust cut “But David—!” short.
“We need to have faith, Terra. Besides, I have completed my promise. The rest is up to her,” David said, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken meaning.
A soft smile touched Terra’s lips then, a knowing glint in her eye. “Rapunzel didn’t require rescuing.”
David chuckled, a hint of something darker underlying his amusement. “No. She never needed rescue. She just needed the key to the tower door.” His gaze lingered on the now-empty driveway, a shadow of apprehension crossing his features. “Her path ends, not with a prince, but with a villain.”
The red car sped down winding streets and onto bustling highways, the world outside the estate walls a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds. For Crys, confined for so long, it was a sensory overload; the landscape rushing past in a dizzying kaleidoscope.
“Um, Shylene…” Crys leaned in from the back seat, where she sat beside the composed Ampris. “Could you slow down?”
“Yeah, that ain’t happening.” Sarah quipped from the front passenger seat, rolling her eyes. “This is SLOW.”
“Oh, shut up.” Shylene huffed, maneuvering a tight corner. “We’re on a tight schedule. Besides, not much to see here anyway.”
With a sigh, Crys leaned back against the black leather seats, the initial excitement tinged with a touch of disappointment at the fleeting glimpses of the world.
“Don’t worry.” Ampris said beside her, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone. “We’re visiting a far more intriguing location.”
“Please tell me you know what a plane is.” Shylene muttered, a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Through the rearview mirror, Crys shot Shylene with a pointed glare. “I’m not stupid.” The glare softened as a new thought struck her. “Wait, plane? We’re going on a plane?”
“Yep!” Sarah grinned, turning in her seat. “So cool, huh?”
“We land in Tokyo tomorrow,” Ampris announced, putting her phone away. “I’ve already set up the hotel.”
Confusion washed over Crys. “Why Japan?”
“That’s where you were born, hon!” Sarah exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.
“The best way to find this guy is to start at the beginning.” Shylene explained, her tone reasonable. “What better place to start than the country you two were born in?”
Crys couldn’t believe the reality of it all. She was leaving her secluded home, venturing out into the vast world hoping to find her long-lost brother.
As the car pulled up to the bustling airport, a mix of apprehension and eager anticipation churned within her. What kind of person would her brother be? Would he even remember her? Was he still alive?
If you’re out there, brother, silent words echoed in her mind as she waited for her plane ticket, the boarding pass a tangible promise of a new beginning. I hope you are a nice person. I can’t wait to meet you!
*****************************************
Flickering candlelight illuminated the small room; shadows lingered. The air hung heavy with aged wood and the faint, metallic tang of polished steel. A low, rectangular Japanese table occupied the center of the space, serving as a silent witness to the scene unfolding between the two figures seated on either side. Here, darkness felt real, a soothing blanket against unseen perils.
Moments before, gentle, almost imperceptible footsteps approached the room, their sound absorbed by the thick tatami. Three men now sat sentinel just inside the entrance, their expressions impassive. They formed a silent barrier, preventing any intrusion while acting as witnesses to the exchange about to take place. Their presence underscored the gravity of the occasion.
Seated at one end of the table, a man exuding an air of quiet authority observed the younger man opposite him. His tailored suit, though simple in cut, spoke of wealth and influence. His gaze was sharp, assessing, betraying years spent navigating a complex world.
Across from him sat Hiro, a young man whose lanky frame belied a hidden strength. His dark, cropped brown hair framed a face that held a serious intensity. His patient determination shone through his Persian blue eyes as if expecting this specific day.
“You are twenty now, Hiro,” the older man began, his voice a low, resonant rumble that filled the small space. Hiro remained silent, his gaze unwavering. “To us, you remain a child; however, legally, you are an adult. That milestone carries with it certain privileges, certain responsibilities.”
With the older man’s subtle gesture, one of the silent figures near the entrance stepped forward, presenting Hiro with an aged black book, its leather cover worn smooth with time and handling, its pages filled with secrets and knowledge passed down through generations. Hiro’s stern blue eyes regarded the book. Years of ingrained lessons echoed in his mind: Trust no one. This principle formed the foundation of his life from age five, when he arrived at this secluded location. Here, within these sparsely lit walls, devoid of modern comforts, he was molded into the man he would become — a leader. Harsh punishments and unwavering discipline surfaced in his memory, but he suppressed these memories, overwhelmed by the weight of the present moment. The man before him was more than just an elder; he was his mentor, his guide in all things. From the intricacies of weaponry to the subtle art of interrogation. In the intricate web of their family, a network built on secrets and illicit dealings, a multitude of skills were essential for survival and dominance.
“Choose,” the well-suited man stated, his voice firm.
Without hesitation, Hiro reached out and placed a hand on the black book, his fingers tracing the worn leather.
“I have already chosen,” he replied, his voice a low grunt imbued with unwavering confidence.
“I see.” A flicker of intrigue danced in the older man’s eyes. “And what, pray tell, have you decided?”
A brief pause hung in the air, thick with unspoken weight, before Hiro uttered the words: “Shi no Tenchi, Angel of Death.”
Heavy silence filled the room; breathing itself felt stifled. For an instant, time ceased.
Then, a slow frown spread across the older man’s face, morphing into a broad smirk, followed by a deep, resonant laugh that echoed through the chamber.
“It would be my grandchild who would choose such a name,” his eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and pride. With a mere flick of his wrist, he signaled to one of the waiting men. Hands placed a ceramic sake container and two small cups on the low table. The older man poured the clear rice wine into each cup.
“Tell me, Angel of Death,” he continued, his gaze now sharp and expectant, “what shall be your first goal? Aside from the obvious of course: reclaiming your title. That I shall grant to you freely. You are, after all, my flesh and blood.”
Hiro reached for the offered glass, his grip tightening around the cool ceramic.
“I advise you, though,” the older man cautioned, swirling the sake in his own cup, “to not squander this newfound freedom on a singular goal driven by immediate emotion. Revenge will arrive, my boy. You must master the art of patience in such situations.”
Hiro nodded, absorbing his mentor’s wisdom.
“I wish to find someone,” he stated, his voice now carrying a quiet intensity.
The older man’s eyebrows rose, his intrigue piqued once more.
“And who is it that the Angel of Death seeks to locate?”
Raising the small cup to his lips, Hiro took his first tentative sip of alcohol. The unfamiliar taste caused him to cough and sputter, but he regained his composure. Watched by the three silent figures and the man across from him, Hiro downed the remaining sake in one swift motion, then slammed the empty cup onto the table with such force that a small crack spider-webbed across its surface.
“My sister.”
A single eyebrow arched in surprise. “Though I can understand such familial sentiment, you must also consider the harsh realities. Your first endeavor could very well be locating a corpse.” The older man sighed. “Though, I will concede, such a discovery would undoubtedly serve as fuel for the other less sentimental goal I know you harbor. I would advise choosing a more substantial aim.”
For the first time, a flicker of disagreement crossed Hiro’s features.
“I know she is alive,” he stated with unwavering conviction. “I am sure of it.”
A brief pause settled within the candlelit darkness.
“Very well, two weeks.” The older gentleman said. “You have two weeks to locate your sister. Perhaps this personal quest will provide you with even greater motivation to destroy our enemies. Who knows?” He picked up the sake container, refilled both their cups, then raised his own. “To family.”
Hiro stared at the clear liquid reflecting the flickering candlelight before raising his own cup in a silent toast.
“To revenge.”