I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Chapter 803: Speaking to Sakura (2)

Nathan closed the door behind him and stood still for a moment.

Sakura was sitting near the low table with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her cheeks were burning red, and even though she tried to meet Nathan’s gaze, she could not hold it for more than a second before looking down again.

Akiko, on the other hand, had recovered from the embarrassment quickly enough to glare at him.

“You should apologize to the Princess,” she said sharply.

The silence in the room broke at once.

Nathan slowly turned his eyes toward her.

He did not raise his voice. He did not move. But something in his stare made Akiko lose the rest of her courage. Her expression faltered, and she turned her face away with a quiet click of her tongue.

Sakura shook her head quickly.

“It is fine, Akiko,” she said, her voice soft. “Ryo-sama did not mean to see anything.”

Nathan remained quiet.

He had seen enough to understand why Sakura was so embarrassed, but there was no reason to make it worse by mentioning it. He had come here for something far more important.

“I came to talk,” he said.

Akiko looked back at him, the challenge returning to her eyes.

“Are you finally going to release us?” she asked. “How long has it been now?”

“Do you have a problem with how you have been treated here?” Nathan asked.

Akiko opened her mouth, then hesitated.

Sakura answered before she could.

“N…no,” she said quickly. “We are grateful. No one has treated us badly. We are given food, clean clothes, and a safe place to sleep. It does not feel as though we are prisoners, not truly.”

Her voice weakened toward the end.

“But we are not free either.”

Nathan said nothing.

He understood what she meant. The village had not mistreated either of them. Genzo had made certain of that. Sakura and Akiko had been given privacy where possible, protection, and everything they needed to live comfortably.

But a locked door remained a locked door, even when the room behind it was warm.

Nathan wondered what Sakura truly wanted.

Did she wish to return home?

Did she still hope to go back to her father?

Norihiro had made no open attempt to retrieve her. Perhaps he had been too occupied with the approaching threat. Perhaps he believed Sakura would be safer where she was. Or perhaps, as Nathan feared, he simply did not care enough to risk anything for her.

Nathan walked toward the chair opposite the table and sat down.

“I cannot release you,” he said.

Akiko’s eyes widened.

“Why?!”

Her voice rose, but Sakura reached for her arm at once.

“Akiko.”

“But, Hime, we cannot remain here forever.”

“Please,” Sakura said quietly. “Let him explain.”

Akiko looked at her, frustration clear on her face. She wanted to argue. She wanted to fight for Sakura, even if there was nothing she could truly do against Nathan or the shinobi surrounding the cottage.

At last, Sakura spoke again.

“Could you leave us alone for a little while?”

Akiko stared at her.

“Hime, I cannot leave you with him.”

“I will be fine,” Sakura said.

Then she looked toward Nathan, still nervous, but with enough conviction in her eyes to make the words clear.

“Ryo-sama would not hurt me. He saved me. Do you remember?”

Akiko’s expression softened.

She remembered.

Whatever else Nathan was, whatever he planned to do to Norihiro, he had protected Sakura when he could have used her cruelly. He had not harmed either of them. He had not treated them as enemies.

Akiko bit her lip, then nodded reluctantly.

“I will be right outside.”

Sakura gave her a small smile.

Akiko rose, cast one last warning look at Nathan, and moved toward the door. She slid it open, stepped out, then closed it behind her.

The cottage became quiet.

Only the crackling fire in the next room could be heard.

Sakura remained seated across from Nathan, her fingers tightening lightly in her lap as she waited for him to speak.

After several long seconds, she asked, “May I know why we cannot leave?”

Nathan looked at her directly.

“Because you are Norihiro’s daughter,” he said. “You are valuable to him, whether he has shown it or not. And he is an enemy of the shinobi.”

Sakura lowered her gaze.

“I understand that,” she said. “But as you have seen, Father has not tried to take me back. He does not seem to care whether I am being held hostage.”

“That does not mean I can simply let you go.”

“Why not?”

Nathan was quiet for a moment.

He had promised himself that he would not lie to her.

Sakura was not stupid. She knew something terrible was coming. She had seen the tension in the village, heard fragments of conversations, and watched shinobi come and go with weapons and urgent messages.

She deserved the truth.

“Do you understand what may happen after Norihiro falls?” Nathan asked.

Sakura’s eyes lifted toward him.

Her face had become pale.

Nathan continued, his voice calm but serious.

“The South has suffered under the Daimyos for too long. Once Norihiro is gone, people will want to move forward. They will want a new beginning, an alliance between the South and the capital, and an end to the old order.”

Sakura’s hands began to tremble.

“And my father’s bloodline will be part of that old order,” she whispered.

Nathan did not look away.

“Yes.”

The answer hurt her.

He saw it at once.

Sakura’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Her hands curled into trembling fists against her kimono. She understood what he was saying, even though he had not spoken the worst part aloud.

A defeated ruler’s family could become a symbol.

A claim.

A danger.

And in a country trying to forget the past, people sometimes chose the cruelest way to make sure the past could never return.

“Does that mean I will be killed after the battle?” Sakura asked.

Her voice was almost too quiet to hear.

Nathan’s expression hardened.

“No.”

Sakura blinked.

“You are far safer here than you would be at Norihiro’s side,” Nathan said. “If people find you in Minami Kyoto after he falls, they may not see you as Sakura. They may only see his daughter.”

The words filled the room with a heavy silence.

“No one can know where you are,” Nathan continued. “Not until the situation is settled.”

Sakura stared down at her hands.

Then, slowly, she moved forward and lowered herself onto her knees in front of Nathan.

Nathan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“I do not care about my own life,” Sakura said.

Her words were quiet, but clear.

“Please let Akiko go. She has done nothing wrong. She only stayed with me because she was afraid to leave me alone. She should not be held here because of my father.”

Nathan looked at her.

Sakura bowed her head lower.

“Please.”

For a moment, he did not answer.

Akiko was not Norihiro’s daughter. She had no political value. She was only Sakura’s attendant and friend, someone who had been caught in the same disaster through loyalty.

But releasing her now could still be dangerous. She knew where Sakura was. She knew the village existed. She knew the shinobi were connected to Nathan.

More than that, Akiko would never willingly abandon Sakura.

“You are not being held here because I want to punish you,” Nathan said at last. “And neither is Akiko.”

Sakura slowly raised her face.

“She is here because she wants to care for you,” Nathan continued. “If I send her away, she will try to return. Or she will do something reckless to find you again.”

Sakura’s expression trembled between sadness and faint relief.

“She really would,” she admitted.

Nathan gave a short nod.

“She is staying because you need someone you trust.”

Sakura looked toward the closed door where Akiko waited outside.

A small smile appeared on her lips.

Then it faded as another thought came to her.

“Are you going to kill my father, Ryo-sama?”

Nathan did not hesitate.

“Yes.”

Sakura shut her eyes.

Her shoulders trembled once, but she did not cry.

Nathan watched her quietly. She had known this was possible. Maybe she had known it from the moment he took her away from Minami-Kyoto. Yet knowing something in the mind and hearing it spoken aloud were not the same thing.

After a while, Sakura opened her eyes again.

“B…But if you kill him,” she said, “will it not make things worse between the North and South?”

Nathan studied her.

Despite everything, she was still thinking about the people beyond herself. About what would happen to the South. About the conflict that might grow after her father’s death.

It made him feel even more certain that she did not deserve to be punished for Norihiro’s actions.

“You do not need to worry about that,” he said.

Sakura looked confused.

Nathan leaned back slightly in his chair.

“I have already considered it.”

He could not tell her the entire plan. Not yet. There were too many moving pieces, and the less Sakura knew, the safer she would be if anyone came looking for answers.

But he could give her one truth.

“Norihiro’s death will not be blamed on Kaguya,” Nathan said. “And it will not be blamed on the shinobi.”

Sakura wanted to ask more.

She could see there was something behind Nathan’s words, some larger plan he had already set into motion. But the expression on his face told her he would not explain it.

Not now.

Perhaps not ever.

“I see,” she said quietly.

A bitter smile touched her lips.

“Ryo-sama has thought about this much more than I realized.”

Nathan said nothing.

Sakura lowered her eyes again.

“And after my father dies, I suppose I will either be killed or used for someone else’s political interests.”

The words came out softly, but they carried a painful certainty.

She had been raised close enough to power to understand how people like her were viewed. A daughter of a Daimyo was never simply a daughter. She was a name, a bloodline, a potential claim, and a piece that could be moved across a political board.

If Norihiro survived, she would remain useful to him.

If he died, she might become useful to someone else.

And if no one could find a use for her, then perhaps the easiest solution would be to make sure she could never become a problem.

Nathan rose from his chair.

Sakura looked up at him.

He had seen through her thoughts at once.

“You will not be killed,” Nathan said.

His voice was firm enough that she could not mistake it for empty comfort.

“I can promise you that.”

Sakura gave a small nod, but the bitterness did not leave her expression.

Perhaps death would have been easier than living as another person’s tool.

She had spent her whole life surrounded by people who decided things for her. Where she should go. What she should wear. Who she could speak to. What future would be expected of her. Even now, her life rested in the hands of a man she barely knew.

Nathan stepped closer.

Then he held out his hand.

Sakura stared at it for a moment.

His hand was rougher than she expected, marked by old wounds and the calluses of someone who had held a sword far more often than anything gentle. Yet he did not look impatient. He simply waited.

Slowly, Sakura raised her face.

Then she placed her hand in his.

Nathan closed his fingers around hers and pulled her carefully to her feet.

For a moment, they stood facing one another in the quiet room.

Nathan looked at her seriously.

“I am the one holding you hostage,” he said. “No one else.”

Sakura’s eyes widened slightly.

Nathan continued.

“And that means I will have the final say over what happens to you.”

Her pink eyes began to shine.

Those words should have frightened her.

They should have reminded her that she was still not free.

But instead, something inside her loosened for the first time since she had been taken from Minami Kyoto. Until now, she had felt like a person carried along by other people’s choices. Norihiro’s daughter. A hostage. A possible bargaining piece. Someone whose future would be decided by strangers discussing war in rooms she would never enter.

But Nathan was looking directly at her.

Not at Norihiro’s bloodline.

Not at a political advantage.

At her.

“Wh…why are you being so kind to me?” Sakura asked.

Her voice broke at the end.

A tear slipped free and ran down her cheek.

Nathan lifted his free hand and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“Because you are worthy of it,” he said.

Sakura held his gaze.

For a moment, she could not speak.

No one had ever said something like that to her so plainly. Her father had praised obedience, grace, and usefulness. The people around him had praised her status. Akiko had always loved her fiercely, but even she had treated Sakura as someone precious because she was a princess.

Nathan expected nothing from her.

He was not asking her to serve him.

He was not demanding loyalty.

He was not trying to make her feel indebted to him.

He had simply told her that she deserved kindness.

Sakura’s fingers closed a little more tightly around his hand.

Another tear threatened to fall, but this time she managed a faint smile.

“I do not know if I deserve it,” she whispered.

Nathan’s expression softened slightly.

“Then you can decide that later.”

For the first time since he entered the cottage, Sakura let out a quiet laugh.

It was small and unsteady.

But it was real.