Chapter Text
“Citizens of Inazuma.”
Truthfully, had it been any other day, the streets of Hanamizaka would have been bustling: with children relishing the warmth and sunshine peeking through the trees, and their parents appreciating the cool summer breeze.
“We are here today to witness the comeuppance of one Kujou Takayuki.”
Instead, they’re flooded by rows of the Inazuman populace, the atmosphere palpable with suffocating tension.
Kamisato Ayato stands straight and tall in the face of Narukami, diligent eyes trained ahead as he recites the necessary formalities as required of the Yashiro Commission.
“For his crimes against the nation of Inazuma, he has been sentenced to the Musou no Hitotachi of the Grand Narukami Ogosho. May this be a fitting illustration for all future betrayals against the Narukami for the rest of eternity.”
He pivots gracefully and disappears into the indistinguishable mass of officials as his voice reverberates throughout the streets of Tenryou. Behind him, Kujou Takayuki kneels towards the doors of Tenshukaku, with his three children kneeling behind him.
For all the self-control Sara has honed over the years, she cannot stop herself from risking a glance.
His face was as gaunt as she had ever seen him, even after the weeks following the passing of his wife, Kujou Akari. Once clothed in only the most luxurious robes, his greying and choppy rags clung to his skin in uneven clumps. His hands were a dull blue, his eyes a muted red, fixed upon the tiles of the terrace. Before Inazuma City was a broken, defeated husk of a man.
From the doors of Tenshukaku emerged the Grand Narukami Ogosho, blade in hand, eyes ablaze. Arcs of electricity bounded from her body as she descended in elegant strides. They inched ever so closer to Takayuki as if desperate to converge upon their prey.
The Raiden Shogun spun her blade. Takayuki merely closed his eyes.
“Now”, she declares, as she lunges towards his body, “you shall perish.”
A blinding burst of light consumes the area. The crackling of thunder booms throughout the courtyard, followed by the unmistakable singeing of flesh. The light abruptly dies out.
Nothing appears to have changed. That is, until the corpse of Kujou Takayuki begins to fade to dust.
The air smelled burnt.
Sara only stares blankly as she witnesses ash flutter down with a faint outline of where the clan head once stood.
She turns towards her brothers. Kamaji’s glasses had a hint of red liquid on their frames. The same could be said for the tips of Masahito's ears.
She notes, dully, that her fingers felt wet and sticky. She glances down.
They too were stained.