midnight summons

In a world where every single person possessed magic… so did he.

His name was Shimizu Toyotomi, nineteen years old.

[He had a balanced build—neither overly muscular nor particularly thin. His skin was fair, and his short, spiky brown hair added a certain sharpness to his appearance. His eyes were a deep brown, observant and always serious. His attire was formal and precise, befitting someone raised under the rigid expectations of the Toyotomi clan.]

He was the son of Kagehisa Toyotomi, head of one of the most powerful clans in the empire.

He also had a younger sister—Shizuka Toyotomi, sixteen. Their mother had died giving birth to her...

[Shizuka had a slender-to-average frame, with fair skin and long, light brown hair styled into two thick braids draped over her shoulders. Soft bangs framed her forehead, and wisps of hair curled near her ears. Her large, dark brown eyes held a gentle light. Her features were delicate: a small, unassuming nose and a subtle, closed-mouth smile. She had an innocence untouched by the harsh world around her.]

Shizuka now lived in Yokohama, under the care of their cousin, Yamiko Toyotomi.

---

Shimizu was quietly writing in his diary when a soft knock disturbed the silence. The door creaked open, and a servant entered with a slight bow.

"Young Master," she said politely, "The Master wishes to see you. Now."

He glanced at the clock, brow furrowing. "Now? It's already midnight..." He sighed. "Fine. I'll go."

The servant nodded and withdrew silently.

He closed the diary, pushed back his chair, and stood up. His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he made his way toward the yard. A chill hung in the air. The silence was heavy—unnatural. His mind raced with questions.

Why would Father call for him at this hour?

---

Eventually, he reached the yard. Moonlight spilled across the stone tiles. His father stood with his back to him, arms behind his back, motionless beneath the stars. Only the outline of his broad shoulders was visible.

Shimizu took a deep breath.

"Father. You wanted to see me?"

Kagehisa turned, eyes sharp with skepticism.

"Listen, son," he said without warmth. "Have you found a way to retrieve the Imperial Dual Swords from her yet? Or are you still full of excuses?"

Shimizu clenched his fists.

"Father, you know I’ve tried... time and again. But the Dual Swords—" he hesitated, "they just won't accept me."

His father growled, stepping closer.

"So you're admitting you’re a disgrace to the Toyotomi name?" he snapped. "A pathetic mage with weak mana, unworthy of leading the clan? You couldn’t even become a captain in the Imperial Divisions! If not you—then who? Sentaro? You want him to lead instead of you?"

"Don’t bring shame to me, boy."

And just like that, Kagehisa turned and stormed off, his footsteps disappearing into the darkness.

Shimizu stood frozen. His eyes remained fixed on the ground as his father’s words echoed through his head.

"...That old man. Always comparing me to them."

"Fine. I’ll go back to my room."

He turned slowly, shoulders heavy with disappointment.

"I wish I was like Yamiko... and Sentaro."

"Damn it. My life... it sucks too much."

Shimizu lay in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the moonlight casting pale stripes across his room. The air was still, but his mind was restless.

He had only ever studied at the Academy—books, spells, battle formations, and the history of the imperial relics. But none of it had brought him closer to what his father wanted.

The Imperial Dual Swords—blades of legend. Twin weapons said to choose only those worthy of shaping the future.

For the past thirty years, not a single wielder had emerged. The swords had remained dormant, sealed in their Domain, silent and unyielding.

But then, four years ago, everything changed.

The swords stirred.

And they chose someone.

A girl.

She wasn’t just anyone—she was the granddaughter of the last known wielder of the Imperial Dual Swords. As if destiny itself reached back through bloodlines to call her.

Shimizu clenched his jaw at the thought. No matter how hard he trained, how much mana he poured into his spells, the swords had never even flickered for him.

But for her—they had awakened.

He tried to push the thoughts aside, but they kept circling his mind like vultures.

Why her?

What made her so different?

His eyes began to close.

And slowly... his thoughts dissolved into the quiet of the night.

Shimizu fell asleep, his mind still echoing with the weight of a name he refused to say out loud.

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