(Just like last time, these are short fragments I discarded while preparing some chapters. They're unedited and unrevised, so the quality might be a bit lower.)
1 — Blonde Snow
As I think I've considered before at some point—
I like snow.
There's no particular reason.
I just tend to lean slightly toward lower temperatures.
Looking around, it doesn't seem like my companion feels the same way.
Especially considering this is probably her first winter under these conditions, her personality type, and the fact that I'm not exactly someone she gets along with.
Well... at least this isn't the first time we've spoken.
That would be unpleasant.
I remember she gave us her food when Sasha and I were punished for the first time.
...
...
...
...
At the very least, I think I still have a point in my favor thanks to my noticeably more childish appearance compared to hers.
"We should look for shelter... at least until the storm settles."
Her expression darkens slightly as she speaks, her eyebrows trembling from the cold as they tighten.
If my mouth weren't covered by the fur of my coat, I would've sighed.
Obviously, that would be ideal—but if the map Reiner was carrying is correct, we're still more than 300 meters away from the nearest abandoned cabin...
And besides, thanks for mentioning it now, Krista... as if I hadn't been leading us toward it for the past 40 minutes... agh.
"That's a good idea," I reply, forcing a hint of warmth into my tone.
My eyes scan the landscape.
Completely white.
Immaculate.
...
I don't like snow.
I suppose when the scale changes, so does my appreciation for this natural phenomenon.
Or maybe I just hate white.
Ahhh...
"Hate"... did I really just use that word?
I hate this hormonal, childish body.
The wind changes.
It shifts from a constant annoyance... into a force that pushes, invades, demands.
The snow stops falling.
It starts striking our faces painfully.
The cartilage in our faces stiffens even beneath our coats.
...
My steps sink deeper than expected.
Every movement requires calculation.
If I stop for too long—
the cold begins to take ground.
Not immediately.
But enough.
...
Krista is no longer walking beside me.
She's half a step behind now.
Not out of weakness.
Out of resistance.
Her body is fighting something she can't control.
Her breathing is no longer steady.
And her footing—
loses precision.
A slight sway. A hand pressing against her lower abdomen.
...
Interesting.
...
Fatigue?
No.
It's irregular.
Sporadic.
Unnecessary muscle tension.
Small pauses disguised as adjustments.
...
Ah.
...
—I see.
...
The cabin door creaks as it opens.
The sound—
is louder than it should be.
Or maybe it's just the contrast.
After so much wind,
anything stable feels exaggerated.
...
I step inside first.
One step.
Two.
The wooden floor responds with a faint groan.
Old.
But firm.
...
Dark.
Cold.
But—
enclosed.
...
Enough.
...
I check in seconds.
Windows.
Structure.
Possible entry points.
Fairly sealed.
...
"Come in."
...
Krista enters without saying a word.
The wind tries to slip in behind her—
fails.
I close the door.
...
Silence.
...
The storm continues outside.
But now—
it's distant.
...
...
I exhale.
Barely.
...
And then—
...
"...You should've said something earlier."
I comment, my tone neutral, almost bored.
...
A mistake.
I realize it the instant I say it.
...
Silence.
...
There's no wind now to soften the reaction.
No noise to dilute the impact.
...
"...Excuse me?"
Her voice is no longer soft.
Still low.
But there's something else.
Something compressed.
I shiver slightly.
...
I look at her.
Directly this time.
...
"That you're unwell," I add bluntly.
At this point, there's no point hiding it. I'll play the card of innocent honesty.
"We could've adjusted the pace earlier..."
...
The change is immediate.
Not gradual.
Not subtle.
...
Direct.
...
Krista is staring at me.
Intently.
Her cheeks are still flushed from the cold.
Her breathing still uneven.
But her eyes—
aren't.
...
There's no kindness.
No softness.
...
There's anger.
Pure.
Direct.
Unfiltered.
...yeah, I messed up.
...
"...Excuse me?"
She repeats.
But this time it's not a question.
It's a warning.
...
"...I assumed—"
"—No."
She cuts me off.
Sharp.
Immediate.
...
A step toward me.
The wood creaks under her weight this time.
Not the snow.
...
"...Don't assume."
...
Silence.
...
Interesting.
...
"And what exactly are you assuming?" she continues, her voice low but firm—dangerously steady.
...
She doesn't retreat.
She doesn't smile.
...
...
"...That you're more irritable and weaker than usual due to a temporary physiological factor," I reply, completely naturally.
...
Mistake number two.
...
The air inside the cabin—
feels heavier.
...
"...You're an idiot."
she says it without raising his voice.
Without dramatics.
Without exaggeration.
...
...
I blink.
Once.
...
"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
...
Her breathing is heavier now.
But she doesn't step back.
She doesn't avoid eye contact.
...
She holds it.
...
"Do you know what the worst part is?" she lets out a breath, her jaw tightening. "...That you're not even saying it to annoy me."
...
...
"Who do you think you are...?"
...
...
"...That's what makes it even more irritating."
...
...
Her anger isn't just about the assumption.
It's about the reduction.
The oversimplification of something complex.
...
Error in emotional assessment.
...
Noted.
"I understand," I finally say.
"No, you don't," she snaps back immediately.
Correct.
"...Then explain it to me."
...
I look at her directly.
No irony.
No provocation.
...
Just interest.
...
For a second—
she hesitates.
...
Barely.
...
"...Not everything has to have an explanation that works for you, idiot," she finally says, looking away for the first time.
"You need to learn when to shut up..."
...
...
The storm crashes against the walls outside.
But now—
it doesn't matter.
...
"I'll keep that in mind."
...
It's not an apology.
Not entirely.
But—
it's enough.
...
Krista doesn't respond immediately.
...
One second.
Two.
...
"...You better," she finally mutters.
2 — Chess & Life
"Hey, Kiyotaka!!!"
A deep yet friendly voice calls out to me from the dining hall. Beside him, his dog—best friend—greets me with an easy gesture.
"Wanna play?" Reiner says with a grin, pointing at the chessboard in front of him.
Judging by the situation, it seems Bertholdt and he just finished a match that Reiner appears to have won.
Honestly... the timing is quite convenient.
I miss playing chess.
Not that a casual game against Reiner could even be called practice for me.
Just like any one-on-one combat in this world—regardless of category or form—it's meaningless.
Centuries of chess theory between us.
The easiest way to separate levels would be to find the strongest chess player in this world.
If I'm being generous, it would be someone like Erwin or another commander.
At best, they'd fall somewhere in the 1900–2200 ELO range.
Even considering Erwin's potential, he still feels quite limited compared to someone like Ryūen on a strategic level. Even Suzune would surpass him if she spent some time studying military strategy.
Sakayanagi? She'd probably enjoy her life as nobility and have others die for her.
And Nagumo... despite how poorly he performed against me, I can't deny that—excluding those from the White Room—he's likely the best.
At least... as long as Koenji stays out of it.
I wonder how the third year ended... my disappearance must've been a heavy blow for the class.
I'm still not even sure under what circumstances I ended up here.
Death?
A dream?
Nothing at all?
I shake my head as Reiner looks at me like I've lost it, and I simply take a seat.
"Are you good at chess, Kiyotaka?" he asks kindly.
"Mm... I suppose I can manage," I reply, still holding back.
His expression softens into a warm smile.
"Alright, let's take it easy then!! Good luck!!"
He extends his hand for a handshake, which I return.
I give him the white pieces, so he starts.
(I would've liked to develop all the matches in this chapter, but I have no idea how—that's one of the reasons I scrapped this fragment.)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
"Checkmate."
My tone comes out flat, and the sound of a palm hitting the table draws everyone's attention toward us.
"W-what... it's only been 23 moves..."
"Oh... I guess I just got lucky. Sorry."
Before the depressed Reiner can respond, Bertholdt pushes him aside and takes his seat in front of me.
"My turn!!"
...
...
...
...
...
...
"Checkmate..."
"Ugh!! Even faster..." Bertholdt groans, hitting his head against the table, while Reiner glares at me.
"Ha... lucky? You lying bastard."
"...I guess I can play a little. It's nothing special."
I turn my head and meet the gaze of literally every single one of our comrades.
All of them filled with admiration.
Ugh...
I should've held back a little.
"Oye, Mikasa, Eren... did Kiyotaka play a lot of chess back home?" Armin asks curiously.
"Uh..." Eren scratches the back of his head, thinking. "I don't think I've ever seen him play... what about you, Mikasa...?"
"Me neither..." she replies thoughtfully, but then her expression softens slightly as she makes eye contact with me. "...No, actually, I have seen him play a few times. Maybe he practices alone in his room... wouldn't surprise me."
...
...
...
...
...
"What is this, Father...?"
"Mm...?" The blond, middle-aged man with simple yet attractive features shifts his gaze toward me.
I'm in the living room, holding a dust-covered box in my hands.
"Oh!! That belonged to my father," he says, walking over with a bright smile as he stands beside me. "It's a chess set. I used to play with him all the time!!"
"Chess?" I ask, curious.
It would be strange to know about something that I clearly shouldn't be familiar with...
"Do you want me to teach you?"
...
...
...
"Is he asleep...?"
His mother's voice is barely a whisper, as if she's afraid of breaking something fragile that can't be seen.
The man smiles faintly.
He doesn't answer right away.
He just watches.
The board still rests on the low table, the pieces scattered in an incomplete position... chaotic... yet strangely balanced. As if, even without understanding, the child had tried to impose order.
"...Yes."
He finally replies, softly.
Kiyotaka sleeps leaning forward, his cheek resting against his arm. His fingers still linger near a piece—a knight—as if he had held onto it until the very last moment before giving in.
His breathing is slow. Deep.
Too calm for someone who, when awake, seems to observe the world with more attention than he should.
"...He looked so focused..." she murmurs, stepping closer.
She kneels beside him.
Carefully—almost reverently—she brushes a strand of hair away from his face.
"...I don't understand how he can make that expression at his age."
The father lets out a soft nasal chuckle.
"Who knows... he's special."
The silence that follows isn't uncomfortable.
It's dense.
Warm.
The woman gently places her hand on the child's back, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his breathing.
"...Even so, he's still a child."
Her voice trembles slightly.
"And he should be allowed to be one."
The man glances at her.
That sentence isn't light.
It isn't casual.
It's not just an observation.
It's... a wish.
One that still doesn't know it will be broken.
"...He will be."
He replies with quiet certainty.
He leans in slightly, adjusting Kiyotaka's arm so it doesn't rest in an uncomfortable position.
A simple gesture.
Clumsy, even.
But genuine.
"...my little genius, huh?"
She says with a faint smile.
Her eyes aren't on the board.
They're on him.
Only him.
The man exhales through his nose, amused.
"Ours."
Well... Kiyokasu leaves this here before wrapping up the Royal Family arc. Uff... more like a little gift from me—if anything, just an excuse to say this.
Lately, I've been writing a bit more than usual, simply because I enjoy it—like I always try to.
And let's just say I went a bit too far exploring the idea of Kiyotaka in Vinland Saga, since that setting would make it really easy to develop some ideas I have about slavery and similar themes. But knowing how small the Vinland community is on Wattpad, it almost feels like a waste to publish it.
That aside, as I've said many times... almost everything I write is just an excuse to develop how I perceive Koji—ignoring some parts of the original novel and giving him the kind of development I would've liked to see. I don't know if that makes sense, but... as long as I keep enjoying writing long monologues and Koji's reactions as much as I do, this story will keep going.
Lastly, if anyone knows how to write chess games, message me on Discord (kiyokasu0050) so I can improve this chapter. Thanks for everything—LOVE YOU ALL!!!!